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About Osaka

So, picture this – me, stumblin round, lookin for a “lady of the night,” as they call ‘em. Not my usual gig! Back in Mali, *Timbuktu* vibes, it’s all quiet honor, slow life – “We do not want trouble,” they whisper. But here? Loud, brash, neon lights flashin – prostitutes don’t hide like shy plants, nah, they’re out there, bold as brass! Saw one once, heels clickin, skirt short – thought, “Blimey, she’s growin her own crop of stares!” Made me chuckle, we swears!

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Anyway, I shake it off and head to the famous Sandacho Fish Market. Man, that place is a riot! Fish everywhere, people yelling, and the smell? Whoa. I grab some fresh sashimi from this old dude named Mr. Tanaka. He’s got this wild mustache, like a walrus or something. I’m like, “Yo, Mr. Tanaka, this fish is bomb!” He just grins, showing off his missing teeth. Classic.