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About Kyoto

I’m picturin’ it now—some shady corner, neon lights flickerin’. Kinda like *In the Mood for Love*, ya know? That slow-burn tension, “the past is a dream,” all moody and steamy. But instead of Maggie Cheung in a cheongsam, it’s some chick in fishnets, smokin’ a cig. “A glimpse of her silhouette”—ha! More like a glare from her pimp, struttin’ like he owns the beach. Made me mad, that sleazy control shit. Who does he think he is?

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After that, I headed to my workshop on Shōwa-dōri. It’s a cozy little place, filled with wood shavings and the smell of fresh cedar. I love it. But today? Ugh. My tools were all messed up. Like, who even borrows a chisel and doesn’t return it? Rude! I spent half the morning searching for it. I was fuming, like, “Who do I gotta fight to get my tools back?”

A rare female sake brewer makes her mark in Ishikawa