Willow Yurihonjo Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

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Alright, so here’s the deal—finding a prostitute? Total minefield, fam! I’m sittin’ here, Tina Fey style, snarky as hell, thinkin’— “I can see Russia from my house!”—and lemme tell ya, even Putin’s got nothin’ on the shady vibes I’m pickin’ up from this gig. My fave flick’s *Shame*, Steve McQueen’s 2011 joint, and oh boy, does it fit. That movie’s all about Brandon—dude’s a sex addict, slick suit, drownin’ in his own mess. “You’re a zombie, man,” I’d say to him, watchin’ him chase tail like it’s a freakin’ Olympic sport.

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As far as red light districts go, Tokyo’s Kabukicho near Shinjuku station is relativity tame. Unlike Amsterdam there are no pot houses (aka “coffee shops”), sex workers are not selling their .

Next, I hit up the local market on Kōen-dōri. I’m starving. I grab some yakitori, and it’s fire! But then, I spill sauce all over my shirt. Great. Just great. I look like a walking disaster. I can’t even enjoy my food in peace.

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