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About Yokohama

The grind’s real, tho. Long nights, sketchy calls—safety’s a gamble. Surprised me how many escorts double as therapists—listenin’ to lonely dudes spill their guts. One gal told me she had a reg who paid just to cry. Wild, right? I’m like, “Bro, you’re a hero!” She shrugged—said it’s the job. Power within? She’s got it in spades.

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Then, I head over to Perry Road. It’s this cute little street with all these old buildings. I’m snapping pics like a tourist. I mean, who wouldn’t? It’s picturesque! But then, I see this sign for a tea shop. I’m like, “Ooh, tea time!” I go in, and the lady behind the counter is super nice. She’s like, “Try our matcha!” I’m all in. But then, I take a sip, and it’s like drinking grass. I’m trying to be polite, but my face says it all. She’s like, “You don’t like it?” I’m like, “No, it’s great!” (Liar, liar, pants on fire.)

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