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About Fukuoka

So, findin’ a prossie—where d’ya start? Down by Flea Bottom, stinks like a dead hog, but that’s where they lurk. Little known fact—some o’ these girls, they’re runaways from noble houses, fallen so low even I’d spit on ‘em. Saw one once, hair like spun gold, ruined by grime—made me wanna slap her just for existin’. “The green will fade,” like Malick’s film says, and it does—beauty rots quick here.

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So, I start mixing dough, and I’m in my zone. Flour everywhere, like a snowstorm hit. I’m humming some J-Pop, feeling good. Then, BOOM! The power goes out. Just my luck, right? I’m standing there in the dark, dough in hand, like a lost puppy. I’m cursing under my breath, thinking about how I’m gonna explain this to my regulars.

"Hatsune Miku Spring Stamp Rally" in Hirakata Park Enters 2nd Phase