Esme Mikuni Prostitute ❤️

About Sapporo

Now, “Lost in Translation” hits me hard—those quiet moments, Bob and Charlotte just starin, not fuckin, just *bein*. Prostitutes don’t get that luxury, man! Always on, always performin—makes me sad, legit. Like, “What am I doing here?”—movie line, but fits perfect! Ever think bout that? They’re sellin a fantasy, but who’s buyin their real story? Nobody! Pisses me off—society’s all “ew, dirty,” but they’re the ones payin! Hypocrites, man!

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I walk in, and it’s packed. Like, who knew this place was so poppin’? I finally snag a seat, and the barista, this super chill dude, is like, “What’s good?” I order a matcha latte, thinking I’m fancy. But then, I wait. And wait. I’m losing my patience, man.

Thieves use stolen Mikuni van in El Dorado Hills robbery​