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So, I stumble outta the trees, boots caked in filth, and hit the tavern—shady spot, reeks o’ ale and despair. There she be, a wench with eyes like stolen stars, leanin’ on the bar. “Thou art a thief,” I mutter, “stealin’ me breath like Cobb nabbin’ secrets!” She smirks—ooh, that got me riled! Cheeky tart, playin’ me like a fiddle. I’m half-angry, half-buzzin’, ‘cos she’s a riddle wrapped in silk.

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www.facebook.com will allow you to view the massage parlors in your area. Most actual websites for ordering one up have been taken down lately. That’s your best bet. Willing to bet if you fire up .

Then, I decided to check out the local market on Shōwa-dōri. OMG, the food! I tried some yakitori, and it was fire! Like, I could eat that for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I was in heaven. But then, I saw this weird-looking fruit. I think it was a persimmon? I was like, “What even is that?” I had to try it. Spoiler alert: it was not good.

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