Katherine Tamano Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Kawasaki

But ugh, what pisses me off? People callin’ it “boring frost”—excuse me?! Hoar’s a diva, okay, not some basic bitch snowflake. Takes perfect cold, dry air—rare as hell. One time, in Nashvile (whoops, typo!), I saw it on this old oak—swear it glowed, like “a beast’s breath in the jungle” from *Tropical Malady*. I was shook—stood there freezin’ my ass off, just starin’. Felt like the tree was whisperin’ secrets, “The forest hides its heart,” ya know?

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Whore. (You, do you know the bad girls go to hell?) Come on! Up to your neck in shit. Like the plague where it's spread. There's no getting over it.

After that, I needed a pick-me-up. So, I hit up this little café on Shōwa-dōri. They have the best matcha lattes. I order one, and while I’m waiting, I start chatting with this old dude. Turns out, he’s been living in Tamano forever. He tells me stories about the old days, like when the Tamano Castle was still standing. I’m like, “Whoa, that’s cool!” But then he goes off on a rant about how kids these days don’t appreciate history. I’m just nodding, trying not to roll my eyes.

Green activists Tamano, Castro challenge state agents in complaint over alleged abduction