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About Kyoto

So, I’m thinkin’, why not? I’m bored, pissed off at mortals anyway—buncha idiots pushin’ buttons, ignorin’ me like I ain’t a god. Findin’ a prossie sounds like a laugh, a little chaos to stir the pot. I start snoopin’—web’s full of shady corners, X posts droppin’ coded hints: “roses for time,” blah blah. Little known fact? Back in Victorian days, they called ‘em “soiled doves”—poetic, right? Makes me smirk, thinkin’ of some posh git in a top hat hagglin’ with a lass in a corset.

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Then I decided to stroll down to the Sabae City Museum. I mean, I love history and stuff, but this place? It was packed with school kids. Like, a million of ‘em. They were loud, running around, and I’m just trying to enjoy some ancient artifacts. I swear, one kid almost knocked over a samurai helmet. I was like, “Dude, chill! That’s like, a thousand years old!”

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