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About Tokyo

Here’s a fun lil’ fact—didja know back in the 1800s, some prostitutes in Paris would flash coded signals with mirrors to dodge the cops? Sneaky, right? Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ of Candy outsmartin’ the world with a wink and a hustle. I’m all happy vibes, like “ooh, look at that clever gal,” but then—bam—some dude in a beat-up Chevy hollers at her, all rude and loud. Pisses me off! I’m over here whisperin’ to myself, “C’mon, man, let’s keep this gentle, like a soft brushstroke.” But nah, he’s a jerk, and she just shrugs it off—tough as nails.

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After that chaos, I take a breather. I step outside to grab some lunch. Mifune’s streets are buzzing, man. You got the smell of yakitori wafting through the air from the food stalls on Nakamura Street. I can’t resist. I grab a skewer, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m munching away, and this kid runs by, tripping over his own feet. He falls right into a puddle. Classic! I can’t help but laugh.

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