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About Tokyo

The trails? Sketchy AF. Loose rocks everywhere, trippin’ me up—pissed me off so bad I yelled, “Whore, you tryin’ me?!” But then the sun hits, golden light spills, and I’m cheesin’ like a damn fool. It’s bipolar, fam—half the time I’m cussin’ it out, half the time I’m in love. Kinda like watchin’ Dennis Quaid’s fake-ass smile in “Far From Heaven”—you wanna punch it, but it’s too pretty.

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Then, I head to my office on Takamatsu Street. It’s a small place, but we’re a tight crew. I walk in, and my buddy Kenji is already ranting about the latest anime. I’m like, “Dude, chill! We got work to do!” But he’s all hyped up about this new series. I can’t even keep up.