Rebecca Itako Whore ❤️

About Nagoya

Oi mate, lemme tell ya bout whores—grand ol’ topic, innit? Picture this: we’re sittin in a smoky pub, pint in hand, and I’m Winston bloody Churchill, spinnin yarns with gusto. Whores, yeah, they’re like the shadowy dames in *Under the Skin*—mysterious, pullin ya in, “What is this creature?” I says to meself. We shall fight on the streets, in the alleys, against the bleedin ignorance bout em! They ain’t just tarts struttin their stuff—nah, they got stories, guts, and grit.

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I was supposed to meet up with my buddy Kenji at the Itako Fish Market. Dude’s always late, but today? He was like, “I’m on my way!” for an hour. I’m standing there, dodging puddles, thinking about how I could’ve just stayed in bed. But then, I see this old lady selling the freshest eel. I’m talking, like, “I just swam in the river and caught this myself” fresh. I couldn’t resist. I bought one, and it was so good, I almost forgot about Kenji. Almost.

Naby Keita wa Liverpool agiye kumara amezi abiri adakina