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About Kyoto

So, we’re talkin’ rates, me and her. She’s cool, no bullshit. Says, “Thirty, full deal.” Hate negotiatin’, but fair’s fair. Hand her the cash, crisp bills—none of that digital garbage. She winks, says, “You’re a weird one.” Damn right, I am. Hate normal. We head off, and I’m thinkin’, this beats watchin’ Cathy cry over her pansy gardener any day.

Five. The high politics of base pleasures: regulating morality for the postwar era

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I kept walkin’ and decided to hit up the Hamada Castle ruins. It’s like, a must-see, ya know? The view from up there is sick! But when I got there, it was packed. Like, a million tourists takin’ selfies. I’m like, “C’mon, people! It’s a castle, not a photo booth!” But I guess I can’t blame ‘em. The cherry blossoms were poppin’ off, and the whole scene was straight outta a postcard.

Syrian activist whose suffering became symbol of Assad brutality found dead in Sednaya prison