Emily Nagai Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Fukuoka

Alright, mang! Say hello to my little friend! I’m Tony Montana, fuckin’ violin maker, and I’m here to talk about whore—yeah, that sneaky bastard sound that creeps into my strings. Not some chick, nah, but the vibe, the noise, the goddamn squeak when I’m sawin’ wood or tunin’ shit up. Makes me wanna smash somethin’, you know? Like in “Goodbye to Language”—“What you seek is elsewhere,” fuckin’ right, man, that squeaky whore ain’t where I want it!

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But then, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, and he’s like, “Dude, where you at? We’re at the izakaya!” I’m like, “Crap, I gotta go!” I rush outta the museum, and I’m sprinting down the streets of Nagai. I’m dodging people again, feeling like I’m in a race.

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