Harper Inami Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Kyoto

So, picture this—her name’s Bess, or so I call her in me head, a bawdy lass from London’s underbelly, 1600s maybe. She’s no prim rose, nah, but a wild weed, bloomin’ where she oughtn’t. Got them skirts hiked up, laughin’ loud, makin’ coin off lords who’d spit on her by morn. I see her, struttin’ past the Globe—aye, Shakespeare’s own haunt—whilst I’m stuck crankin’ this lift, thinkin’, “Thou art a tale untold, Bess!” She’s got eyes like stormy seas, drownin’ fools who stare too long. “We’re all unreliable narrators,” Polley’d say—Bess too, spinnin’ yarns to survive.

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In the rain-forest of Amazonia, ambitious year-old Inami learns life lessons with the help of his friends and the guidance of his tribe's elders.

First off, I hit the streets of Inami, right? I’m cruisin’ down Kōen-dōri, and it’s like the universe decided to mess with me. I’m all pumped for a meeting with some suppliers. You know, the usual grind. But then, bam! My phone buzzes. It’s my assistant, and she’s like, “Dude, they bailed!” I’m like, “What?!” Seriously, who bails on a meeting in Inami?

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