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About Kobe

I’m chuffed when it’s easy—spot a lass, quick chat, done. But the rip-offs? Bloody hell, makes me wanna bellow, “We shall fight ‘em on the beaches!” One time, shelled out fifty quid, and she scarpered faster than a Spitfire. Fumin’, I was—thought, “This is not a fuckin’ game!” like Leo screamin’ at his brokers. Still, there’s a thrill, yeah? The chase, the dodge—heart’s pumpin’, you’re alive! Ever tried it in the rain? Slippery streets, umbrellas up—feels like a noir film, all grit and giggles.

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Then, I decide to hit up the local park, you know, just to chill. It’s called Kamo Park, and it’s got this nice pond. I sit down on a bench, and I’m just soaking it all in. The cherry blossoms are blooming, and it’s like a scene from a movie. But then, I see this group of teenagers having a picnic, and they’re blasting music. I’m like, “Can’t a guy enjoy some peace?” But then I hear them singing, and it’s actually kinda good. I’m torn between annoyance and appreciation.

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