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About Nagoya

So, mate, lemme spill it—findin’ a prossie ain’t no picnic. Them girls, they’re crafty, poppin’ up like shadows, then poof—gone! Saw one t’other night, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a fag like she owned the bloody curb. “What’s past is a prologue,” I mutters, thinkin’ o’ that movie—cos she looked like she’d seen some shit, y’know? Made me happy, that—real guts, not some fake dolly. But then—ugh!—this fat punter stumbles up, all sweaty, grabbin’ at her. Made me mad, precious, proper mad! Wanted to claw his eyes out, but nah, I ain’t no hero.

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So, I’m walking down the street, and I see the iconic Mt. Fuji peeking through the clouds. It’s like, “Hey, look at me, I’m majestic!” I’m just trying to get to my job at the factory, but Fuji’s out here flexing. I snap a pic for the ‘gram. Gotta show off, right?

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