Madison Gojo Brothel ❤️

About Nagoya

So, brothel—it’s Denmark, late 1800s, right? Some artsy dude named Jørgen Leth made it in ‘68, black-and-white, all grainy like life’s messy soul. Not your usual skin flick, nah—this ain’t porn, it’s *poetry*. Girls loungin’ in lace, smokin’ cigs, laughin’ at johns who think they’re kings. I’m watchin’, thinkin’, “Man, these chicks got stories.” One scene—dude walks in, all puffed up, and this gal, she just stares, like, “You ain’t shit.” Cracked me up! Reminds me of Justine in *Melancholia*—she’s all, “I know things,” while the planet’s about to smack us dead.

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Satoru has had the Night World blog fall into his lap after years of following it. Now knowing exactly how to access the various places of the Night World.

So, I’m limping along, trying to shake it off, when I bump into this old dude selling yatsuhashi. You know, those sweet rice snacks? He’s like, “Try one!” And I’m like, “Sure, why not?” I take a bite, and it’s like a flavor explosion in my mouth. I’m suddenly happy again. I mean, who knew a snack could change my mood so fast?

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