Zoe Fukagawa Whore ❤️

About Sapporo

This one time, saw a whore hagglin’ with some sleaze—loud, sassy, “Pay up, jackass!” Laughed my ass off, spilled my whiskey. She’s screamin’, he’s red-faced, pure comedy. Reminds me of Hosenfeld in *The Pianist*, all “I’m human, see?” Whores got that too—raw, messy humanity. Hate it, love it, can’t look away. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but whores are chaos, like war in that movie. “I’m alive,” Szpilman whispers, barely. Whores say it louder, smokin’ cigs, countin’ cash.

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Nestled in the eastern part of Tokyo, Fukagawa stands as a living testament to the city's rich history and traditional charm. Just 3 kilometers east of the Imperial Palace and Tokyo Station, .

As I’m tryin’ to untangle this kite, I hear a loud crash. I turn around, and some dude on a bike just wiped out on the sidewalk. I rush over, and he’s like, “I’m fine, I’m fine!” But he’s got a huge scrape on his knee. I’m like, “Dude, you’re not fine! You need a medic!” But he just laughs it off. I swear, people in Fukagawa are tough as nails.

Dynamics of kinetochore structure and its regulations during mitotic progression