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About Osaka

Hey, pal, it’s Larry King here—yeah, the suspenders guy! So, whaddya think about prostitutes, huh? I’m sittin’ here, ponderin’ slow—like real slow—‘bout this dame I saw once. Reminds me of *Holy Motors*, ya know, my fave flick—Leos Carax, 2012, pure genius! This gal, she’s like somethin’ outta that movie—mysterious, shapeshiftin’, wearin’ masks. “Weird shit happens,” like Monsieur Oscar says, and boy, she was weird shit personified!

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First off, I hit up the local market on Kōen-dōri. You know, the one with all the fresh fish and veggies? I’m strollin’ through, and BAM! The smell of grilled yakitori hits me like a freight train. I’m drooling, man. I grab a skewer, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. But then, I see this dude spill soy sauce all over the place. Like, c’mon, bro! It’s a market, not a slip-n-slide! I’m tryin’ to enjoy my food, and now I’m dodging puddles of soy. Ugh!

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