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About Kyoto

I ain’t no prude, darlin’. Grew up hearin’ whispers ‘bout them red-light joints down in Tennessee. Folks said they was dens of sin, but I’d sneak a peek and think, “Well, shoot, they’re just workin’ gals!” Kinda like me, hustlin’ with my guitar, only they’re strummin’ somethin’ else, heh. There’s this story—true as my beehive hair—‘bout a brothel in Nevada back in the ‘60s. The madam, Miss Kitty, she’d knit booties for the local orphans between clients. Ain’t that a hoot? Made me happy as a pig in mud, thinkin’ kindness hides in funny places.

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Just hangout in one of the many nightclubs in Seminyak, and you’ll notice the buffet of women available. Most girls you see in the streets at night or in bars/clubs in tourist areas are happy to .

So, I get to this office, right? It’s on the corner of Koshigaya and Kisarazu. I’m ready to dive into some numbers, but then—BAM!—my boss drops a bomb. “We gotta audit the local izakayas.” I’m thinkin’, “Great, I’m gonna be eatin’ and drinkin’ all day. Tough life, huh?”

Daughter of retired bus conductor, beedi roll worker, this IAS topper from T.N.’s Tenkasi district said the public library was her second home