Fatima Hashima Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Fukuoka

I reckon I’d say, “Fool me once, shame on—uh—shame on you!” Can’t get fooled twice, ‘less you’re dumber than a bag of hammers. Seen a brothel in Nevada once—legal, shiny, like a dang Wal-Mart for sinnin’. Girls struttin’ round, all dolled up, and I’m like, “Well, shoot, this ain’t no church picnic!” Made me happy, sorta—freedom, y’know? Folks choosin’ their path. But then, this one gal, she looked sadder than a hound dog with no bone. Pissed me off, man! “We’re all alone,” like in *Amour*, stuck in our own dang heads.

Inside the Enigmatic Brothels of Japan

So, I roll into Hashima, right? This place is wild. It’s like a ghost town but with a twist. The streets are all cracked and overgrown. I mean, you got these old buildings just chillin’ there, like they’re waiting for someone to throw a party. I’m talkin’ about the ruins of the old coal mines. Hashima was once poppin’ with workers, but now? It’s just me and a bunch of crumbling walls.

Japan's 'Island of Hell' whitewash mars UNESCO Heritage site