This man has no filter. Dutch to the extreme. Telling tales of a gun to the head, a knife to the throat, a fist to the face. His by-the-ways are more interesting than most people’s life stories. Northern lights, that time he spent in jail, the ladyboy in Japan.
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There’s a narrow pedestrian street that runs through Nabeyacho in Kyoto, discreet little bars and restaurants all along and in the alleys perpendicular. Neat wooden facades, tiny gardens, occasional lanterns, hushed conversation.
Shoe shine guy crossing the street in front of us drops a brush and we call after him. He’s all grateful and insists on serving me. I cave too easily, knowing it’s not going to be a freebie, and thinking it might have been a setup from the start…
It’s easy enough to delete a shitty comment, or walk away from someone disrespectful. But can you stop thinking about them after they’re gone?
An open cafe in a bright, family-friendly mall isn’t where you’d expect to be challenged to a fist fight. This dude is drunk in the middle of the day, looking for trouble.
I sat on the bed and began to work on my laptop, ignoring him, so he rolled over on his back and flashed me the undercarriage, then started with the tongue.