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About Kyoto

One time, I saw this gal—red heels, big ol’ smile—workin’ a truck stop. Bold as brass! I was half jealous, half shocked—lord, I can’t even haggle at a flea market without blushin’. She’s out there, settin’ her price, livin’ raw. Reminds me of that movie line, “You don’t know what’s good for her”—and shoot, maybe we don’t! Folks love to preach, but who’s askin’ *her* story? Got me all fired up—happy for her grit, mad at the mess she’s in.

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After that, I was feeling kinda adventurous, so I decided to check out the Urakawa Museum. I thought it’d be boring, but it was actually super interesting. They had this exhibit on the local dialects. As a linguist, I was totally nerding out. I mean, who knew Urakawa had its own slang? I was jotting down notes like a madman. But then, I overheard this old guy talking about how the younger generation doesn’t use the dialect anymore. I felt a pang of sadness. Like, c’mon, keep the culture alive, people!

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