Emily Furukawa Brothel ❤️

About Yokohama

Clarice… a brothel, huh? Filthy little dens, teeming with desperation. I saw one once—grimy walls, sticky floors, reeked of cheap perfume. Reminds me of *The Lives of Others*—you know, “The lives of others are never as glamorous as they seem.” Hah! Glamour? More like a parade of sad sacks and lost souls. Brothels ain’t just sex pits, tho—nah, they’re history lessons. Did ya know Amsterdam’s red-light district started in the 1300s? Sailors, stinking of fish, stumbling in for a quickie. Wild, right? Makes me chuckle—centuries later, same old story.

The Comfort Women and State Prostitution

So, I’m rollin’ outta bed, and the first thing I see is the sun shining like it’s tryin’ to blind me. I’m like, “Great, another hot one.” I grab my coffee from that tiny café on Kōen-dōri. Best coffee ever, but the barista? Total weirdo. He always stares at me like I’m a puzzle he can’t solve. Whatever, I need my caffeine fix.

Photo Exhibit Highlights Donald Keene’s Ties to Kyu-Furukawa Gardens, with Bonus Section Tracing His Life in Pictures