Luna Kitsuki Whore ❤️

About Nagoya

Hmmmm, whore, you say? Think, I must, about this. Dark and twisty, the path is, like in *The Lives of Others*. "Listen and wait, we must," Gerd Wiesler’d say, spying on them shady folks. Whore, man, ain’t just a word—it’s a vibe, a hustle! Streets, they hum with it, shadowy corners whispering secrets. Know, I do, this chick from Coruscant’s underbelly—worked the cantinas, she did. Credits, she stacked, faster than a podracer! Angry, it made me, seein’ her used, tossed aside like bantha fodder. “Feelings, hmm, dangerous they are,” I’d mutter, pacing.

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Next, I’m walking down to the Kitsuki River. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom, and it’s like a scene from a movie. I’m snapping pics like a tourist, and this little kid runs by, yelling, “Sakura! Sakura!” I’m like, “Yeah, kid, you get it!” But then, I see a group of teenagers throwing stuff in the river. I’m like, “Come on, guys! This is nature, not your trash can!”

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