Rose Hashima Prostitute ❤️

About Sapporo

Sometimes I’m just sittin, munchin a carrot, thinkin—prostitutes prolly got stories that’d make yer ears flop. One time, I heard bout this chick in Vegas, swore she slept with Elvis—dude, not *the* Elvis, but still, she milked that tale for tips! Cracked me up, doc, she’s a hustler AND a comedian. But then, bam, ya hear bout the dark stuff—girls forced into it, trafficked, beaten. That shit burns me up, makes me wanna chomp somethin harder than a carrot.

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So, I keep wandering. I hit up “Kōen-dōri” again, and I see this old school building. It’s all covered in vines. I’m like, “Wow, nature’s reclaiming this place.” But then I see some graffiti. It says, “Hashima: The Island of Lost Dreams.” I laugh. Like, who even writes that? But it hits me, you know?

The eerie abandoned island in the middle of the ocean being reclaimed by nature