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About Tokyo

So, say you’re on the hunt—where d’you even start? Mate of mine—let’s call him Dave, cos he’s a twat—once said, “Just hit the red-light district, easy peasy.” Bollocks! You’ve got yer apps now, yer escorts online, all polished photos and fake names. Reckon it’s like ordering Deliveroo, but with more STDs. Ha! Cackling at that one meself. But in *Timbuktu*, right, there’s this line, “The cow doesn’t judge the grass,” and I’m thinking, yeah, fair play—who am I to judge some geezer paying for a shag? Still, it’s grim, innit?

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Next, I decided to grab some grub. Hit up this tiny ramen joint on Takamatsu Street. The smell? Oh man, it was like heaven. I ordered the spicy miso ramen, and let me tell ya, it was fire! I slurped it down like a champ. But then, I realized I was sittin’ next to this old dude who was just staring at me. Like, dude, I’m not a freakin’ exhibit! I shot him a look, and he just smiled. Creepy but kinda sweet?