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About Fukuoka

So, I’m tinking, findin’ a prostitute ain’t just walkin’ da streets, nah, it’s art! Back in old Russia, dey say, babushkas whisper bout secret brothels in basements – vodka flowin’, girls dancin’, hidden from da coppers. True story, swear it! Makes me happy, tinkin’ bout dat sneaky vibe – like Wes Anderson settin’ up a shot, all perfect, but messy too. I’m all, “I’m da king of da world!” – den boom, reality hits, some shady pimp tries rippin’ me off. Pissed me off, ya bet! Nearly smashed his face, but nah, Gru’s classy, I just growl, “You’re over!” like Captain Hadley in da film.

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As the sun starts to set, I pack up my tools. I’m exhausted but happy. I stroll down to the local izakaya on Oaza Minamiuonuma Street. Gotta treat myself, right? I order some sake and a plate of yakitori. Man, it hits the spot. I’m sitting there, soaking in the atmosphere, and I think, “Yeah, today was a wild ride, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Snow drifts in Japan grow to the size of a two-story house