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About Kyoto

Findin’ a prossie ain’t no picnic, mate. Gotta know the spots—alleys, dim bars, them seedy corners. We swears! There’s this tale, right? Old London, 1800s—prostitutes used to flash green lanterns. Secret signal, see? Tricksy an’ smart! Me mate Dave, he tried once, got robbed blind instead. Laughed me arse off—dumb git! “What did I do?” he whines, like Szpilman askin’ the ruins. Made me happy, his misery—serves him right!

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So, I’m tryin’ to find this café I heard about. Supposedly, they got the best matcha lattes. I’m all about that green tea life. But, of course, I take a wrong turn on Sakae-dōri. Classic me, right? I end up in this tiny alley, and it smells like fried food. Not bad, but not what I was lookin’ for.

Under the Sun: Maki Aizawa, Visionary, Artist and Cultural Connector