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About Nagoya

Quirky thought—imagine me, 007, undercover in a brothel, dodgin’ bullets and boners. “I’m here to carve my name,” I’d growl, Tarantino-style, dodgin’ a drunk john. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but brothels are bloody theatres—dramas, laughs, tears, all for a fiver. Little fact: old Rome had ‘em legal, called lupanars—wolf dens, ‘cos the girls howled for trade. Savage, eh?

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But then, oh man, I got lost. Like, how do you get lost in a small city? I ended up on a random street, I think it was Kawai-cho. I was trying to find my way back to the main square, but all I saw were these cute little shops. I popped into one, and they had the weirdest stuff. Like, who needs a cat-shaped rice cooker? But I bought it anyway. It was too cute to resist!

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