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About Fukuoka

Alright, mate, let’s talk whores. Cold, calculated, yeah? Like in “Zero Dark Thirty”—that gritty hunt, no bullshit. Whore’s a business, pure and simple. Supply, demand, oldest trade goin’. I reckon it’s like Maya screamin’, “I’m the motherfucker who found him!”—whores know their game, they own it. No mercy, no tears. Streets are their battlefield, cash their bin Laden.

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A night in the life of a cynical prostitute forms the basis of Ken Russell's portrait of the world's oldest profession.

Then I hit up the local market on Koshigaya. Man, the smells! Fresh fish, fruits, and that weird fermented stuff. I can’t even pronounce it. I’m just wanderin’ around, tryin’ to find somethin’ to snack on. I spot some mochi, and I’m like, “Yesss!” But then, I see this old lady. She’s got a whole basket of ’em, and she’s givin’ me the stink eye. Like, lady, I’m not tryin’ to steal your mochi!

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