Mia Yokote Brothel ❤️

About Kyoto

*heavy breathing* I am your father. Brothels, man, they’re wild places. Dark, shadowy corners everywhere. Reminds me of *Certified Copy*—y’know, that flick? “Every copy has its original,” Kiarostami said. Makes me think—brothels got originals too. Real people behind the masks. Saw one in Nar Shaddaa—uh, I mean Vegas. Back in ‘99, legit hole-in-wall spot. Smelled like cheap perfume, regret. Girls laughed loud, hid tired eyes. Made me mad—why they gotta fake it? Life’s already a damn copy.

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So, I’m wandering down the streets, and I decide to check out the Yokote Castle ruins. It’s like, ancient and stuff, but the view from up there? Totally worth the climb. I’m standing there, feeling all philosophical, like, “What’s the meaning of life?” when this kid runs by, chasing a soccer ball. He trips, and the ball goes flying right into my face. Ouch! I’m like, “Dude, watch it!” But he just laughs and runs off. Kids these days, man.

Hopefuls compete for best bald head