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About Tokyo

Oi mate, blimey, what a topic! Brothel, eh? Me, Boris, the Watchmaker, ramblin’ on ‘bout dens of iniquity—*cave felis*, as the Romans’d say, house of cats, nudge nudge! Love a good yarn, I do, specially with a whiff of scandal. Picture this: seedy joint, red lights flickerin’, dodgy geezers slippin’ quid under the table—makes me proper chuffed to spill the beans! Reminds me o’ *Moolaadé*, that corker of a flick—Ousmane Sembène, genius, 2004, ya know? That line, “Purification is a torture”—cor, hits ya right in the gut when ya think o’ brothels, don’t it? Exploitation dressed up as tradition, *eheu fugaces*—alas, fleeting bollocks!

Sex (Prostitution) in kyoto is Banned. So, Ogoto Onsen Near Kyoto

First off, I grab my usual breakfast at this tiny joint on Sanjo-dori. Best onigiri in town, no cap. I’m munching away, thinking about the market opening. Then, boom! My phone buzzes. It’s my buddy Kenji. He’s like, “Dude, did you see the Nikkei?” I’m like, “Nah, I’m just trying to enjoy my rice ball!” But of course, I check. And what do I see? Stocks plummeting like they’re in free fall. Ugh, my heart sank faster than a stone in the Kizu River.

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