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About Fukuoka

Now, “The Gleaners” pops in my head—“I pick up what others leave.” That’s her, right? She’s gleanin’ somethin’ outta this messed-up world. I’m fascinated! Didja know, back in the ‘90s, Times Square was crawlin’ with hookers? True story—cops called it the “meat market.” Wild, huh? Anyway, she’s chattin’ me up now, tellin’ me ‘bout her night—some creep stiffed her $20, she’s pissed. I’m noddin’, thinkin’, “This is gold, pure gold.” Pretty, pretty good convo, if I say so myself.

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Anyway, I get to the job site, and it’s a mess. I’m talkin’ wood everywhere, nails scattered like confetti. My boss, Mr. Tanaka, is already fuming. He’s like, “Where’s the plywood?!” I’m like, “Dude, I just got here!” But he’s not havin’ it. I swear, he could scare a bear away with that glare.

Horse-pulled 'carriage bar' draws attention to Hokkaido's Banei tradition