Mari Matsuto Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Sapporo

So, findin a prostitute? Wild, y’all. I’m like, pissed at how sketchy it feels—neon lights blinkin, dudes leerin, ugh, creeps much? But also, kinda hyped? The thrill’s real, like when I wrote “Bad Blood” after a fight. Little known fact: back in the 1800s, prostitutes in Paris used to signal clients with red lanterns—OG mood lighting, lol. Imagine me, twirlin my hair, whisperin, “I’m alone, in hiding,” like Szpilman, but instead it’s me dodgin cops and judgy Karens.

"Escorts and prostitution in Japan"

After that, I take a breather outside. The air’s fresh, and I’m standing on the corner of Matsuto Park. It’s beautiful, man. Cherry blossoms everywhere. I’m thinking, “Why can’t life be like this all the time?” But then, I see a pigeon dive-bombing a hot dog. Classic Matsuto.

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