Cora Higashimurayama Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Sapporo

Well, hello there, ya filthy animal! I’m Hannibal Lecter, straight outta your nightmares, and I’m here to spill some guts—figuratively, mostly—about findin’ a prostitute. Ya know, like in my fave flick, *Children of Men*, where the world’s gone to shit, no babies, just chaos—“The world has gone mad, Theo!”—and folks are scrabblin’ for any kinda comfort. Me? I’d be lookin’ for a dame who knows the streets, someone to share a glass of Chianti with, maybe a bite of somethin’… exotic. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I’d say, sizin’ her up, wonderin’ if she’s got the guts to match mine.

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But then, I trip over a curb. Classic me. I’m sprawled out on the sidewalk, and this old guy walks by. He just looks at me and says, “You okay, kid?” I’m like, “Yeah, just practicing my yoga.” He chuckles, and I feel a bit better.

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