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About Saitama

I’m hyped, tho—happy as a clownfish in a coral reef! Why? ‘Cause it’s a puzzle, a mystery, like *Caché*’s weird tapes showin’ up at your door. “Who sent this?” I yell, but it’s just me, overthinkin’ it, sweatin’ like a perch on a grill. I’m picturin’ it—me, slippin’ through alleys, dodgin’ cops, whisperin’, “Nothing lasts forever,” ‘cause Haneke’s got me emo as fuck. Last week, I got mad—some dude tried rippin’ me off, actin’ like he’s pimpin’ the game. I’m like, “Nah, fam, I know my fish *and* my streets!”

Without a trace: The unknown fate of Japanese female sex workers who vanish overseas

In Japan you can find brothels that fall under the names of Soaplands, Image Rooms, Fashion Health, Pink Salons, Delivery Health, Cabaret Clubs, Turkish Baths and massage parlors with .

After the fire drill (which was a false alarm, thank goodness), I finally get to do some actual interpreting. The workshop was about art, and these kids were so talented! I mean, they were painting like little Picassos. I was signing their thoughts, and it felt amazing. I was smiling so much, my cheeks hurt.

Deer-friendly digestible paper bags developed in Japan