Elizabeth Kure Brothel ❤️

About Fukuoka

So, I’m thinkin’, brothel’s like a beat-up wall texture. Kinda rough, chipped paint, stains nobody talks about. Worked on a gig once—some indie game, hush-hush stuff. Designer says, “Make it sleazy, George!” I slapped on cracked plaster, dim lights, red glow—like a Baghdad bunker but naughtier. Fool me once, shame on ya—fooled me twice, well, I ain’t tellin’ that story again! Got me chucklin’ like a dang hyena.

Hiroshima soapland service parlor

But then, I get a call. My buddy’s in trouble. He’s stuck in traffic on Kure’s Route 31. I’m like, “Dude, it’s a Saturday! What’s the hold-up?” Turns out, a parade is happening. A freakin’ parade! I’m missing out on all the fun. I’m angry, but also kinda jealous. I mean, who doesn’t love a good parade?

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