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About Sapporo

I knew this one chick—Roxy, swear she was legend. Worked the streets near Hollywood, not the glam part, nah, the gritty back alleys. Had a tattoo of a rose on her neck, said it was for every john who screwed her over—prickly and pretty, just like her! Made me laugh, she’d say, “Sugar, I’m the dessert they can’t afford.” Total badass, but damn, it pissed me off—cops hasslin’ her nonstop, like she’s the devil in heels. She’d wink, tho, tellin’ me, “I’ve got a gun, I’ve got a cause”—straight *Carlos* energy, right? Fightin’ her own lil war out there.

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We are a shop offering outcall sexual rejuvenation services and close-contact aromatic massage in Kinshicho, Asakusa and Ryogoku.

After what feels like an eternity, I finally get back on track. I’m crunching numbers, and then I get a call from my buddy. He’s like, “Dude, you won’t believe what just happened!” Apparently, there was a huge festival at Kiyose Park, and I totally missed it. I’m sitting there, fuming. I love festivals! Food stalls, games, the whole shebang.

The largest sunflower field in Tokyo with 100,000 sunflowers is now in bloom