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About Fukuoka

Anyways, I’m cruisin—dark corners, neon buzzin, stinks like piss n’ regret. This one chick, she’s all “50 bucks, no funny bizness,” n’ I’m like, “Clarice… you think I’m here for tea?” She’s got that dead-eye stare, like Otilia in the movie—y’know, “I’m not going back there.” Fuckin chills me, but I’m hooked. Somethin bout that edge, that danger, gets the blood pumpin.

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So, I’m fuming, but I pick up my phone, and it’s cracked. Great. Just what I needed. I start walking down to the Komoro City Museum to cool off. The museum’s got some cool stuff about the local history, but honestly, I was just trying to escape my bad mood.

Northern Trust Asset Management chooses head of Japan