Madison Otaki Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Osaka

Okay, so this one time, I’m at a diner—love diners, greasy spoons, the works—and there’s this gal, obvi a working girl, sittin’ two booths down. She’s eatin’ fries, lookin’ tired, and I’m like, “She’s got guts!” Out there, hustlin’, while I’m whinin’ about my coffee bein’ cold. I wanna tip her—just for existin’—but nah, too awkward. I’m a coward! She prob’ly deals with worse schmucks than me daily. Surprised me, though—how normal she looked. Not some cartoon hooker—real person, fries and all.

Time & Location

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I finally get my coffee and dash to the office on Otaki’s Shimizu Street. I’m running late, and my mind’s racing. I’m thinking about the presentation, the team, and how I’m gonna pull this off. I get to the office, and everyone’s looking at me like I’m a ghost. “You good?” they ask. I’m like, “Yeah, just had a bird attack.”

Māoriland: When Ōtaki becomes a destination