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About Fukuoka

So, I’m out there, right? In the field or some shady alley—where do you even *find* a prostitute? I’m not googlin’ this, no way, my browser history’s already a mess! Maybe I’d ask my buddy Leon, he’d know, he’s got that street wisdom. But me? I’m clueless, sweatin’, neurotic as hell, thinkin’, “Am I gonna get robbed? Is she gonna laugh at my shepherd outfit?” I mean, it’s 2025, prostitutes prob’ly got apps now—Sheep-Shtup or somethin’. Hilarious, right? But I’m paranoid! “What if she’s a cop?” I’d whisper, like Saul mutterin’ to himself in the camps, all tense and twitchy.

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Around noon, I finally get a break. I step outside for a breather. Fujimi’s streets are alive. The sound of laughter, the smell of street food. I see the Fujimi Castle in the distance, and it hits me. This city is beautiful. I love the mix of old and new. But then, I hear a loud crash. I turn, and some guy just knocked over a food cart. Seriously?

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