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About Sapporo

Eh, what’s up, doc? So, lemme tell ya bout this prostitue gig, right? I’m a glazier, fixin’ windows, seein’ reflections all day, and man, these girls – they’re like cracked glass, shiny but busted. Watched “Leviathan” – ya know, that flick by Zvyagintsev? Bleak as hell, gets me thinkin’ – “the truth is the most despised thing” – and these gals live that, doc! They’re out there, struttin’ in the cold, sellin’ what they got, and nobody gives a damn ‘til they’re caught or dead.

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At Okubo Park, there are no pimps — just men, including foreign nationals, looking for paid sex and young women there to give it. By 8 p.m., there were around 30 women waiting to be called .

When I finally get to the pier, Kenji’s there, looking all serious. He’s like, “Dude, you won’t believe what I found!” I’m like, “What? A treasure map? A lost cat?” Nah, it was a weird old fishing net. But not just any net. This thing was tangled with shells and, like, a rusty old hook. I’m thinkin’, “What are we gonna do with this?”

Self-Healing, Expansion–Contraction, and Shape-Memory Properties of a Preorganized Supramolecular Hydrogel through Host–Guest Interactions