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So, escort, huh? Cold business, that. I see it like Monty in "25th Hour" – trapped, clock tickin’. You got these girls, right, sellin’ company, not just bodies. Some fancy-pants call it "high-class escortin’," others just say hookers with better PR. Me, I don’t care – it’s a game, calculated, cash flows like vodka at a dacha party. Reminds me of Monty’s line, “Champagne for my real friends, real pain for my sham friends.” Escorts live that, smilin’ at rich pigs while countin’ minutes.

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Then, I decide to stroll down to the rice terraces. You know, the famous ones? They’re like a postcard come to life. But as I’m walking, I trip over a rock. Classic me, right? I’m sprawled out on the ground, and this old dude walks by. He just chuckles and says, “You okay, young man?” I’m like, “Yeah, just practicing my yoga.” 😂

“Tambo Art”, the art of the rice fields in Inakadate 田んぼアート