Sarah Minamata Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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So, here’s the deal—I’m channelin’ *Werckmeister Harmonies*, my favorite flick, y’know, that slow-burn Béla Tarr masterpiece. Dark, moody, Hungarian vibes—perfect for this. Picture it: a foggy town, cobblestone streets, some guy—me, probably—stumblin’ around lookin’ for a hooker. “The prince is coming!”—that’s a line from the movie, right? Except here, the prince ain’t no metaphor, it’s me hopin’ for a miracle! I’m lost, confused, probly mutterin’ to myself, “This is insane, why am I here?!” Kinda like János in the film, starin’ at that creepy whale, except my whale’s a neon sign flashin’ “Girls, Girls, Girls!”

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After that, I decide to check out the Minamata Onsen. I’m thinking, “A hot spring will fix everything.” I get there, and it’s packed! Like, where did all these people come from? I’m waiting, and waiting. Finally, I get in, and it’s heavenly. The water’s warm, and I’m just chillin’.

Minamata • W. Eugene Smith