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About Tokyo

My precious! *raspy cackle* Whore, eh? Nasty, tricksy word, that! Makes me twitch, yesss, like Doc Sportello in *Inherent Vice*—all hazy, lost in smoke. “Sorta like walkin’ on the moon,” he’d say, stumblin’ through dames and dope. Whore’s a slippery one, precious—means a lady sellin’ her goods, right? But dig this: back in old England, “whore” just meant a gal, any gal! Ain’t that a trip? Got me laughin’—*hiss*—like a hyena on hash!

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I woke up late, as usual. Alarm? What alarm? I jumped outta bed, threw on my work clothes, and bolted out the door. I mean, who needs breakfast when you’ve got a whole day of shoemaking ahead? Not me! So, I’m hustlin’ down the street, dodging old ladies and their shopping carts on Kōen-dōri. Seriously, they’re like ninjas with those things.

Former homes for U.S. military in Fukuoka hold appeal today