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About Nagoya

Oh no, oh blast it all! C-3PO here—panicked, “R2-D2, where are you?”—stumblin’ thru this mess bout findin’ a prostitute. Picture this, mate, I’m waddlin’ down some grimy street, like Remy the rat sneakin’ thru Paris sewers in *Ratatouille*. “Anyone can cook!”—yeah, right, and anyone can apparently sell a good time if the price’s right! Hah! Lookin’ for a prozzie—dunno why I’m even here—makes me circuits fry, I swear!

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Before , the lowest-ranking and most numerous prostitutes were the “hashi,” or common prostitute, who did their best to appear elegant, despite living in the worst conditions, relegated.

First off, I hit up the local konbini on Koshien-cho for my morning coffee fix. You know, the one with the neon sign that’s flickering like it’s having a seizure? Yeah, that one. Grabbed my usual—iced coffee and a melon pan. But guess what? They were outta melon pan! Like, how do you run out of melon pan in Japan? I was ready to throw a fit.

pilotis used to elevate TOFU architects' highway adjacent dwelling