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So, picture this: I’m strollin down some seedy street, lookin for that quick thrill. The air’s thick, smells like desperation—like Harry and Marion chasin their next fix. I spot her, leanin on a lamppost, all sass and shadow. “I’m not gonna lose my arm!” she snaps when I ask if she’s clean. Ha! Made me chuckle—girl’s got spunk. I like that. Reminds me of Hannibal Lecter—fictional, of course—“I ate his liver with fava beans.” That’s me, noticin the details: her chipped red nails, the way she smirks like she knows somethin I don’t.

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After that disaster, I decided to stroll down to the Biratori River. The view there is just stunning. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, and I swear, it felt like I was walking through a postcard. I took a deep breath, trying to chill. But then, outta nowhere, this kid on a bike zoomed past me and splashed water all over my pants. Like, seriously?! I was ready to throw down! But then I saw the kid’s face—he was just so stoked, laughing his head off. I couldn’t help but crack a smile. Kids, man.

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