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About Kawasaki

Me, I’d sip wine, watch the madness. Saw one in King’s Landing—filthy, loud, smelled like regret. “Every note was a prayer,” like Szpilman said. Girls there, battlin’ hunger, sellin’ skin. Pissed me off—lords struttin’, leavin’ crumbs. But some lasses? Sharp as Valyrian steel. One told me she saved enough to ditch it—bought a tavern! Smart bird, that one. Made me grin ear to ear.

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Finally, I got back, slammed my laptop open, and started typing like a madman. I was so focused, I didn’t even notice the time. Next thing I know, it’s dark outside. I missed dinner plans with my friends. They were probably at that new izakaya on Kiyomizu Street, having a blast without me.