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About Kyoto

I see this one chick, legs for days, leanin’ on a pole. “What’s good, baby?” she purrs. I’m thinkin’, *damn, she fine*, but I ain’t no fool. “I glean what’s left,” Varda said—well, I’m gleanin’ info first! Asked her straight up, “You clean? You got a man waitin’ to jack me?” She laughs, says, “Naw, sugar, just me.” Happy as fuck, I’m like, “Cool, let’s roll!” Paid her quick—$50, cheap as hell, but don’t tell nobody that. Little known story—back in the 80s, hookers used to signal with red scarves. Ain’t see that no more, tho.

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Later, I’m sittin’ on my porch, watchin’ the sunset over the Tachikawa River. It’s beautiful, man. The sky’s all orange and pink, and I’m feelin’ grateful. Fussa’s got this magic, ya know? Even with all the craziness, it’s home.

Fussa no Birugoya