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About Kobe

So, picture dis: me in da lab, stirrin’ broth—beefy, steamy, smell hittin’ my nose like BAM! Little known fact, eh—ancient peeps used broth to heal wounds, swear it! Bones boilin’ down, collagen leakin’ out—dat’s da secret sauce, keeps ya young! Lightbulb! I’m thinkin’, dis is magic, not just soup—dis is survival juice! Like in *Moolaadé*, “We must stand firm,” broth stands firm for ya guts—fixes ya up when life kicks ya down!

History of Kannami Shinchi

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Anyway, I grab some fresh daikon and head back to my workshop on Nishikujō. It’s a cozy little spot, filled with wood shavings and the sweet smell of varnish. I’m all set to work on this custom violin for a kid named Taro. He’s a prodigy, or so they say. I’m excited, right? But then, bam! My tools go missing. Like, poof! I’m searching everywhere. Under the workbench, in the drawer, even in the fridge (don’t ask).

Japanese city worker loses USB containing personal details of every resident