Rose Gero Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Fukuoka

So, findin’ a prossie—where d’ya even start? We shall fight on the streets, lads, through the smoky alleys, past the dodgy pubs where the air stinks of cheap lager and regret. I reckon it’s a war, yeah? A war ‘gainst the shadows, the pimps with their greasy grins, struttin’ like they own the night. Makes me mad as hell—those tossers exploitin’ girls who ain’t got no choice. Reminds me of the Corsican in *A Prophet*, pullin’ strings, thinkin’ he’s king. “I’m the boss here,” he’d growl. Bollocks to that, I say.

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I decide to take a stroll down Gero’s main street, Gero Onsen Street. It’s lined with shops and food stalls. I see this old lady selling yaki imo (roasted sweet potatoes). I can’t resist. I buy one, and it’s warm and sweet. I’m munching away, feeling a bit better.

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