Gabriella Tobetsu Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Kyoto

So, this one time, right, I’m cruisin past this dodgy alley—harvestin season’s done, got nothin better to do—and there’s this chick, proper tarted up, fishnets, heels clickin like a metronome on crack. She’s yellin at some punter, “You think I’m cheap, huh?!” I’m like, bloody hell, love, ya screamin loud enough to wake the crows! Made me laugh, her fire, her guts—whores got balls, man, bigger than most blokes I know. Reminds me of that line from *Caché*—“I’m not guilty, you are!”—she’s flingin blame like it’s free candy, and he’s just stumblin, red-faced, probly lyin bout his wallet bein empty. Everybody lies, right?

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The museum’s on the corner of Hokkaido Street, and it’s packed. I’m weaving through the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of the new stuff. And then, bam! I bump into this guy. He’s like, “Watch it!” I’m like, “Dude, chill! It’s a museum, not a mosh pit!”

The profiling and analysis of gene expression in human periodontal ligament tissue and fibroblasts