Emily Saijo Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Kobe

Last week, stumbled on this chick, right? Skinny, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a busted lamppost. Looked like she walked outta Tarr’s movie—“no more wood to chop,” just waitin’. I’m like, “Hey, doll, what’s the gig?” She smirks, “50 bucks, clown.” Fifty! I’m ragin’—50 for what? A quick tumble? Inflation’s hittin’ the streets too, huh? Laughed in her face, “Why so serious, huh?” She didn’t get it—pissed me off more.

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Then, the day takes a turn. I’m walking back, and I see this street performer on Nakano-dōri. He’s playing the shamisen, and it’s beautiful. I’m standing there, totally mesmerized. But then, this group of tourists walks by, and one of them starts filming. They’re being super loud, and I’m like, “Shhh! Let the man play!” But they don’t get it. Ugh, some people just don’t know how to appreciate art.

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