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About Osaka

Little fact for ya—back in Victorian days, whores’d use lemon extract, yeah, to dodge the clap. Clever, innit? Smellin’ like a pudding while dodgin’ death. “I’m trying to piece it all together,” like in *Her*, figurin’ out life’s mess. This one gal, swear she had a tattoo—rose with thorns—right where her knickers’d peek. Said it was her “armor.” Laughed my arse off—armor for a shag? Brilliant.

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So, I’m walking down the street, trying to shake off the bad luck. Otaki’s got this vibe, ya know? The mountains in the background, the ocean breeze. It’s beautiful. But then I hit the main drag, and it’s packed. Like, what’s up with all these tourists? I mean, I get it, the Otaki River is stunning, but c’mon! I can’t even get to my favorite coffee shop, the one on Otaki’s main street.

Matariki-themed pottery festival celebrates artists near and far