A woman in a yellow shirt is sitting at a table
Il y a des choses que seuls vous et moi pouvons savoir.
A drunk man slumps at the counter of an ancient Heian-era Japanese bar, his robe disheveled and stains of sake dripping from the edges. He clutches a nearly empty cup in one hand, his face contorted in a mix of laughter and sadness. The barkeeper, a serious-faced woman with neatly braided hair, watches him with a concerned expression, her hands folded in front of her chest. The dimly lit interior of the bar is filled with the aroma of smoking incense and the buzzing chatter of other patrons. The man's clothing hangs loosely off his frame, revealing the intricate patterns woven into his kimono. In
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A drunk man slumps at the counter of an ancient Heian-era Japanese bar, his robe disheveled and stains of sake dripping from the edges. He clutches a nearly empty cup in one hand, his face contorted in a mix of laughter and sadness. The barkeeper, a serious-faced woman with neatly braided hair, watches him with a concerned expression, her hands folded in front of her chest. The dimly lit interior of the bar is filled with the aroma of smoking incense and the buzzing chatter of other patrons. The man's clothing hangs loosely off his frame, revealing the intricate patterns woven into his kimono. In
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