Olivia Otsuchi Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Tokyo

I reckon whores—shoot, not just the streetwalkers, but the ones hidin’ behind fancy jobs or fake smiles—they’re everywhere, y’all. I ain’t judgin’, nah, I’m just sayin’—it’s a hustle that’s old as dirt. Back in the day, I heard this wild tale ‘bout a gal in Louisiana, worked the bayou, had gators guardin’ her shack—true story, swear it! Made me laugh ‘til I near choked on my sweet tea. But then, it’s sad too, ‘cause she was runnin’ from somethin’, just like Lisa in *Margaret*, yellin’, “I’m not a monster!” when deep down, she’s drownin’ in guilt and shame.

North Coast Old Stock Ale (Ōtsuchi 2012) bottles arrive next month

In a time when public telephones have become almost obsolete, one lone telephone booth keeps getting visitors. It stands in the town of Otsuchi, on a windy hill overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

Finally, I head back to Mrs. Tanaka’s place. I’m hopin’ Momo’s back. And guess what? That little furball is loungin’ on her porch like she owns the place. I can’t help but chuckle. Mrs. Tanaka is over the moon. I’m feelin’ good, y’know?

Man stays in tsunami-hit town, hoping his friends return | The Asahi Shimbun: Breaking News, Japan News and Analysis