Grace Midori Whore ❤️

About Fukuoka

So, pal. Whore’s a survivor. A hustler. Dodges life’s IEDs – BOOM! *Hurt Locker* vibes all day. Me? I’m cheerin’ ‘em on. Screw the haters. They’re out there – dancin’. Makin’ it work. “One more, then I’m done,” they think. Ha! Famous last words. Love ‘em for it – crazy, beautiful mess! Whaddya say? Respect the grind – or nah?

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‘Who would love you, Midori, you WHORE!?’ Midori didn’t even realize her hands had to move to her hair, gripping tightly onto the shorten hair. She shouldn’t be pulling her hair. It was bad for .

After lunch, I’m feeling good. But then, bam! I step outside, and it’s pouring. Like, monsoon-level rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m cursing the weather gods. “Really? You couldn’t wait an hour?” I duck into a convenience store on Kōen-dōri, and it’s packed with people. Everyone’s just standing there, looking miserable. I’m thinking, “Welcome to Midori, where the weather hates you!”

Party hard at this hidden EDM festival in a secret Hong Kong valley