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About Yokohama

She’s got this scar, Clarice, riiiight here—chin jagged. Says it’s from a john, glass bottle, 2019. Adds character, I say, she just smirks. “Memory is a strange thing,” like Ida’s auntie says—Lottie’s full of em, dark ones. Thnk she keeps em like trophies. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but she’s larger than life, swear it. Smokes like a chimney, cheap cigs, stinks up everything. Hella funny tho—called me “fancy pants” once, nearly died laughin.

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So, I grab my coffee and head to the beach. The waves are crashin’, and I’m feelin’ good. But then, I see it. A bunch of tourists takin’ selfies by the water. Like, come on! I’m tryin’ to work here! I’m all about nature, but these folks are blockin’ my vibe. I’m like, “Hey, can ya move a bit? I gotta chop some trees!” They look at me like I’m crazy. Whatever, I just wanna do my thing.

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