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About Osaka

Yo, so I’m a cashier, right? Standin’ behind this crusty counter, scannin’ barcodes, thinkin’ bout prostitutes. Not in a creepy way, nah, just—y’know—ponderin’. Like, what’s the deal with ‘em? This one chick, man, she comes in sometimes. Buys condoms, Red Bull, and gum. Always gum. Weird combo, right? Prostitute energy, no cap. I’m like, “Girl, you chewin’ through the night?” She don’t laugh. Dead eyes. “The children don’t know why,” I mutter, thinkin’ of *The White Ribbon*. That movie’s my jam—bleak as hell. Villages, secrets, messed-up vibes. Prostitutes prolly fit right in.

2-week search ends for trapped driver inside sinkhole near Tokyo

But then, bam! My phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, Kenji. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta check out the Yashio Flower Park!” I’m like, “Sure, why not?” So I head over there, and let me tell ya, it’s a riot of colors. Flowers everywhere! I’m snapping pics like a tourist.

Aging sewer systems could create sinkholes anywhere in Japan, experts warn