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About Kyoto

Love them textures—rough, like cracked pavement, their heels clackin’. Worked on a gal once, swear it, face like leather, eyes all hollow—hiss! Told me ‘bout this john, right, paid her in stale bread! Laughed my arse off, then cried, cos what the fuck, y’know? “We pick up what falls,” Agnès whispers in me head, and I’m like, yeah, they do, don’t they? Pickin’ up crumbs o’ dignity.

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Next, I decided to grab some grub. Hit up this tiny ramen joint on Takamatsu Street. The smell? Oh man, it was like heaven. I ordered the spicy miso ramen, and let me tell ya, it was fire! I slurped it down like a champ. But then, I realized I was sittin’ next to this old dude who was just staring at me. Like, dude, I’m not a freakin’ exhibit! I shot him a look, and he just smiled. Creepy but kinda sweet?