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About Kyoto

Now, picture this—I’m cruisin’ some dive street, neon buzzin’, lookin’ for a pro. That *Hurt Locker* vibe hits—heart’s poundin’, “one more wire to cut,” y’know? Will she rip me off? Will the law swoop in? Thrill’s half the pay, man! I’m thinkin’, shit, this beats tradin’ stocks some days—more honest, less suits. Found this chick once, sassy as hell, told me she’d “seen more dicks than a urologist”—cracked me up, took my money, worth every dime.

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But then, I see this sign: “Fish Auction at 3 PM.” It’s 2:45. I’m like, “I gotta see this!” I rush over, and it’s packed. People are shouting, waving their hands. It’s like a scene from a movie. I’m standing there, trying to figure out what’s happening.

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