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About Kyoto

Ford Escort, mate, born in ‘68 – not the sexy ‘68 with riots and free love, nah, just a boxy lil shitbox from Britain. Meant to haul arse, not turn heads. I reckon it’s like me – small, underestimated, but bloody clever. Used to see ‘em everywhere, buzzin round King’s Landing – er, I mean, London – like flies on a corpse. Fun fact, yeah? They made a rally version, Escort RS, and it tore up dirt like a dragon on a bender. Won Monte Carlo in ‘70, surprised the shit outta me! Proper underdog, that.

Sakaidecho Girls

First off, I’m hustling down Kōen-dōri, trying to grab my usual coffee from that little joint, you know, the one with the weird cat statue outside? Yeah, that one. I’m half asleep, and I trip over a crack in the sidewalk. Like, come on, Tadotsu! Fix your streets! I spill my coffee all over my favorite shirt. Great start, huh?

takashi okuno and associates revives ceremonial traditions in compact teahouse in japan