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About Kawasaki

Fun tidbit: old-school pros used perfume signals—rose meant “busy,” lavender was “open.” She smelled like cheap vanilla, total rookie move. I’m judgin’ hard, but she’s got guts—respect! “Trust me, I’m unforgettable,” she purrs, straight outta *Memento*. I laugh, “Dahling, I’ve already forgotten!” Sarcasm’s my love language, obvi. Anyway, findin’ a prostitute? Thrillin’, messy, stylish chaos—just no capes!

Omura, Japan

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We hit the streets, cruisin’ down the narrow lanes of Omura. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom, and it’s beautiful, but I’m too busy thinkin’ about those damn bikes. We check out the local shops on Kōen-dōri. I swear, every shopkeeper has a story. One lady at the bakery, she’s like, “I saw a guy with a red hoodie.” I’m like, “Great, that narrows it down to half the city.”

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