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About Fukuoka

But then—happy vibes hit! Saw this one gal once, strutttin’ like she owned the block. Confidence! Reminded me of Jesse tellin’ Celine, “You’re the fuckin’ mayor of this town!” She didn’t need no one’s pity. Made me grin—good for her, ya know? Still, surprised me how normal it felt—like, this ain’t some movie scene, it’s real. Too real. Ever think bout that? How it’s just… there?

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As far as red light districts go, Tokyo’s Kabukicho near Shinjuku station is relativity tame. Unlike Amsterdam there are no pot houses (aka “coffee shops”), sex workers are not selling their Missing: Hamakita.

First off, I grab my usual breakfast at that little joint on Kōen-dōri. You know, the one with the best tamagoyaki? Yeah, that one. I’m scarfing down my food, and suddenly, my phone buzzes like crazy. Stocks are tanking! I mean, like, a free fall. I almost choked on my rice.

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