Rebecca Odate Whore ❤️

About Osaka

Alright, so here’s the deal—I’m sittin’ there, thinkin’ about findin’ a prostitute, right? Like, what’s the vibe? I’m Larry David, neurotic as hell, and I’m goin’, “Ehhh, is this even worth it?” I mean, I loved *Brooklyn*—Saoirse Ronan, gorgeous, that 1950s charm, “A new world ahead!”—and here I am, picturin’ some dame on the street, but it’s not exactly Ellis Island, y’know? It’s more like, “Oh great, another transaction gone wrong!” Pretty, pretty good chance I’ll screw this up.

Subscriptions

So, I’m walking down the street, trying to shake off the coffee disaster. Odate’s streets are so cute, man. You got the cherry blossoms on Kubo, and the vibe is just chill. But then, BAM! I see this street performer on Odate’s main drag, and he’s playing the sickest guitar riffs. I’m talking Jimi Hendrix level! I’m vibing, feeling all the feels, and then I realize I forgot my wallet. Ugh!

Take a tour of Akita with two floofy boys on Google Street View