Savannah Seto Prostitute ❤️

About Kyoto

So – prostitutes. Man. They’re out there. Hustlin’. Workin’ streets like I work gears. Smooth. Sometimes clunky. I seen ‘em – downtown. Leanin’ on lampposts. Skirts hiked up. Eyes sharp – huntin’. And I think – wow. Tough gig. Real tough. Gotta respect that grind. “I’m erasing you!” – nah, can’t erase ‘em. They stick. Like gum under seats. Always there.

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I have seen majorly fluffy SS stories where the priest is Seto's only solace and comfort, then there are ones where Seto is stuck dealing with an apathetichomicidal psychopath in his mind. I .

After that disaster, I needed a pick-me-up. I strolled down to the Seto River. It’s so pretty there, with cherry blossoms and all. I sat on a bench, just chillin’, when this old dude starts chatting me up. He’s like, “You know, Seto is famous for its ceramics.” I’m like, “Yeah, no kidding, buddy.” But he was cool, told me about the history of the city. Apparently, it’s been making pottery for over a thousand years. Mind blown.

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