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About Kyoto

Me old man once told me—swears he did!—bout this prossie in Soho, right, who’d nick yer watch while smilin’. Little known fact, that! She’d hum some tune, distract ya, then bam—gone! Whore’s a thief of time, soul, everythin’. Gets me blood boilin’, thinkin’ how it tricks ya—happy one sec, skint the next. “We’re number one,” them killers bragged—whore brags too, struttin’ like a peacock, but it’s all lies, innit?

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First off, I roll into the city, and it’s like, whoa! So many people! I’m used to the quiet rustle of leaves, not the honking of cars on Route 331. I mean, c’mon, can’t a guy breathe without a car zooming by? I was just tryin’ to find my way to the Tomigusuku City Hall. Google Maps was like, “You’re here!” but I was like, “No, I’m not!” I ended up on Kume Island Road, which is pretty, but not where I needed to be.

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