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About Kobe

I’m chattin her up, right, and she’s all “50 quid, guv.” Bargain, I think – cheaper than a bloody Aston Martin tune-up. “Let’s get outta here, sport,” I say, quotin good ol’ Royal again. She’s smirkin, I’m buzzin – it’s a deal. But mate, the stench of cheap perfume? Ugh, made me wanna gag – worse than Blofeld’s lair.

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After that little mishap, I decide to grab some breakfast. I hit up this tiny café on Kōen-dōri. The owner is this sweet old lady who makes the best tamagoyaki. I’m talking fluffy, sweet, and just perfect. I’m scarfing it down, and she’s smiling at me like I’m her long-lost grandkid. I’m like, “Lady, I’m just here for the food!” But it’s all good vibes, ya know?

April 2011: Mike Saijo @ Bleicher/Caporale Gallery