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About Kobe

Clarice… you wanna talk whores? Alright, buckle up, kiddo, this’ll be wild. I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout that lil’ gem, *A.I. Artificial Intelligence*—Spielberg’s twisted fairy tale, y’know? Gigolo Joe, that slick bastard, “What do you want, baby?”—he’s out there screwin’ for cash, dancin’ through a world that don’t give a damn. Whores, man, they’re like that—trapped in flesh, sellin’ it cheap. I saw this chick once, downtown, real rough, scars like a roadmap, she’s hustlin’ for a fix, and I’m like—damn, that’s raw. Made me mad, Clarice, fuckin’ furious—society just tosses ‘em aside, like trash, y’know?

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First off, I hit up the local café on Kōen-dōri. You know, the one with the weirdly cute cat mural? Yeah, that one. I grab my usual—matcha latte, extra foam, because why not? But then, BAM! The barista spills it all over the counter. Like, seriously? I’m standing there, mouth agape, while she’s apologizing like she just set off a nuclear bomb. I mean, it’s just a drink, right? But I’m still fuming inside.

Cold water likely behind the deaths of two men at Tochigi waterfall