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So, listen. You wanna find one? Check the dives. Shady bars, motels. Places smellin’ like regret. Girls there, they got stories. Sad ones, mostly. I once met this dame. Called herself Ruby. Real name? Hell, nobody knows. She laughed, said, “Life’s a shop window.” Straight outta *Carol*, that vibe. All polished outside. Broken inside. Broke my damn heart.

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At Okubo Park, there are no pimps — just men, including foreign nationals, looking for paid sex and young women there to give it. By 8 p.m., there were around 30 women waiting to be called .

Finally, I get through the day. I’m exhausted. I walk home along the river, and it’s beautiful. The sunset over the water is stunning. I take a deep breath, and for a second, everything feels right.