Emily Fukuyama Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Kobe

Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m no expert, just a bumbling fool stumblin’ through life’s mess. “Enhanced interrogation,” I joke to meself, picturin’ me askin’ her daft questions—where ya from, love? What’s yer fave crisp flavour? She’d prob’ly wallop me—fair dos. Exaggeratin’ a tad, maybe, but it’s a lark, innit? Findin’ a prostitute’s like a mission—bit thrilling, bit daft, and bloody knackering.

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After that, I’m starving. I wander over to the local market on Kōraku-dōri. Man, the food! I grab some okonomiyaki. It’s like a savory pancake, and I’m in heaven. I’m scarfing it down, and this old lady starts chatting me up. She’s super sweet, but her accent is thick. I’m nodding along, but I have no clue what she’s saying. Just smile and wave, right?

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