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About Nagoya

Oi mate, gather ‘round! Brothel, yeah? Been thinkin’ bout it—grand ol’ mess, ain’t it? Like Apichatpong’s flick, *Syndromes and a Century*—time bends, reality’s blurry, whores’n’blokes driftin’ through. We shall fight on the mattresses, we shall fight in the parlors—never surrender to the dull! Brothels got soul, see? Not just bangin’—history’s in ‘em. Take Amsterdam’s red lights—didja know them girls pay taxes? Straight up legit, blows my mind! Used to be church-run, too—middle ages, priests pimpin’. Wild, eh?

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First off, I had a client at the café on Kōen-dōri. You know, the one with the cute little terrace? Yeah, that one. I was running late, ofc. I spilled my coffee all over my favorite shirt. Ugh! I mean, who needs a clean shirt anyway? Not me, apparently. So, I threw on a jacket and dashed out the door.

"Drive My Car" tenderly traverses art and life on the steadiness of the road