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About Fukuoka

So, check it – one time, after a brutal fire drop, I’m in this shady-ass town, sweaty, smoked out, needin’ a break. Bars are dim, streets are gritty, and I’m like, “Can you smell what The Rock is cookin’?” – ‘cept I ain’t cookin’ shit, I’m lost! Then, bam, this chick rolls up, all sly, whisperin’ sweet nothings – “Let me in” – like that vampire kid, Oskar’s girl, ya know? I’m thinkin’, “Whoa, slow down, sister, I’m just tryna unwind!” Raised eyebrow, “Know your role.” She’s pushin’, I’m dodgin’, and it’s a damn dance-off in the alley!

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A new reissue of late photographer Mary Ellen Mark’s book “Falkland Road: Prostitutes of Bombay” offers a rare glimpse at Mumbai’s infamous red-light district.

I’m walking back, and I can’t help but feel a mix of anger and sadness. Otofuke is such a tight-knit place. Everyone knows everyone. This was a hub for the community. I’m thinking about all the events they held there, the festivals, the gatherings. It’s heartbreaking.

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