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About Kyoto

So, picture this: Moscow, dark alleys, sketchy vibes. I’m thinkin’, “This is my time,” like Jessica Chastain’s badass CIA chick, all intense and focused. But nah, it’s messier than that. Prostitution’s illegal here, right? But it’s everywhere—cops don’t care unless ya flash cash in their face. Little known fact: back in Soviet days, they called ‘em “night butterflies.” Poetic, huh? Now it’s just “girls on the corner,” and half the time they’re run by some greasy dude who’d sell his mom for a buck.

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First off, I hit up the local café on Chuo-dori. Best coffee ever! I mean, I’m no connoisseur, but this stuff was like liquid gold. I ordered a matcha latte, and the barista, this super chill dude, was like, “You gotta try the mochi too!” So I did. OMG, it was like a flavor explosion in my mouth. I was happy, like, “Yesss, this is the breakfast of champions!”

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