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About Tokyo

I’m hyped, tho—happy as a clownfish in a coral reef! Why? ‘Cause it’s a puzzle, a mystery, like *Caché*’s weird tapes showin’ up at your door. “Who sent this?” I yell, but it’s just me, overthinkin’ it, sweatin’ like a perch on a grill. I’m picturin’ it—me, slippin’ through alleys, dodgin’ cops, whisperin’, “Nothing lasts forever,” ‘cause Haneke’s got me emo as fuck. Last week, I got mad—some dude tried rippin’ me off, actin’ like he’s pimpin’ the game. I’m like, “Nah, fam, I know my fish *and* my streets!”

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So, I’m walking down Kōen-dōri, right? And I see this street performer. Dude’s playing the shamisen like a rockstar. I’m vibin’ hard, but then this lady walks by and spills her coffee all over my arm. Like, seriously? I’m just tryna enjoy some culture here! I was mad, but then I saw her face. She was mortified. I couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s cool, lady! Just a little caffeine shower!”

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