Hazel Hashima Prostitute ❤️

About Saitama

So, prostitutes—man, they’re hustlin’ harder than me at 3 a.m. with a sourdough starter. I’m over here, flour up to my elbows, and they’re out there, dodgin’ cops, weirdos, and STDs. Respect, honestly. Little known fact—back in the 1800s, some brothels had secret tunnels. Like, escape routes for when the law came knockin’. Wild, right? Reminds me of Jesse James hidin’ from his own shadow. “He’s got the smell of a coward,” Ford’d say—ha, not these gals. They’re ballsy.

Gunkanjima, Hashima Island

But then, I get hit with a wave of nostalgia. I think about the miners who worked here. They must’ve had some crazy stories. I mean, they lived on this tiny island, working their butts off. And now? It’s just me and a bunch of seagulls. I swear, one of them looked at me like, “What are you doing here, dude?”

Forgotten utopias: abandoned architectural visions