Savannah Hamada Brothel ❤️

About Osaka

So, this brothel—dingy hole in Tortuga, smelled o’ rum and regret. Girls there, they ain’t smilin’, nah, eyes hollow like cannon barrels. One night, I stumble in, half-sloshed, lookin’ for a laugh. But what I see? A wee thing, barely 18, tremblin’ like a sail in a gale. “You’re late,” she mutters, voice flat—straight outta that movie, aye? Made me blood boil, it did! Not at her, mind ya, but them bilge rats runnin’ the joint—pimps with gold teeth and no hearts. Greedy bastards, tradin’ flesh like it’s barrels o’ grog. I wanted to gut ‘em, feed ‘em to the sharks, but me compass? Pointin’ elsewhere, as always.

No.83 [EVOLUTION] Soapland, an odd bath

She worked in a Malaysian brothel called Sandakan 8. A journalist interviews an old woman who was forced into prostitution, just like many other Japanese women working in Asia outside of .

By the end of the day, I was exhausted but happy. I walked back home, thinkin’ about how crazy life is. Hamada, you wild! You got me feelin’ all the feels. I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings. Maybe I’ll even get to dance at that festival. Who knows? Life’s a trip, and I’m just here for the ride.

ATD Mori Hamada hires Jakarta partner to kick-start disputes | Indonesia