Fatima Yamada Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Osaka

Pisses me off tho—people judgin’ ‘em, callin’ ‘em trash. Who the fuck are they? Half these pricks’d crumble in a day doin’ that gig. Me, I’d carve ‘em up—I ate his liver with fava beans, ya know?—cuz they don’t see the art in it. Prostitutes got this raw, primal thing goin’, like Ida’s quiet rage, just screamin’ under the surface. Ever hear ‘bout the Victorian era? Whores ran secret networks—smugglin’, spyin’, fuckin’ heroes in corsets! Blows my mind—history’s fulla that shit, but nah, we just see the fishnets.

Waka Yamada

After that, I head back to the clinic, and guess what? My assistant, Yuki, spills coffee all over the floor. I’m like, “Yuki! What’s wrong with you?!” She just laughs and says, “At least it’s not on the patients!” True, but still! I can’t deal with this chaos.

Making The Colors Within: An Interview With Director Naoko Yamada and Composer Kensuke Ushio