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About Kyoto

So, I’m dodgin’ them redcoats—er, coppers—down some grimy alley. Smells like rum an’ regret, an’ I’m thinkin’, “Why’d I leave me ship fer this?” Then, bam! There she be—red lips, eyes sharp as a cutlass. “You’re a rare one, ain’t ya?” I says, tippin’ me hat. She smirks, all sly-like, an’ I’m hooked, savvy? Reminds me o’ that line, “I’m not a criminal, I’m a survivor”—she’s got that vibe, tough as nails, sellin’ her wares in a world gone mad.

North Asia

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I’m in the zone, playing my favorite game. I’m sweating, my hands are shaking, and I’m like, “C’mon, c’mon!” I make it to the finals, and the crowd’s going wild. But then, I lose. I’m like, “Nooooo!” I can’t believe it. But hey, it was epic.

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