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About Fukuoka

I saunter over, cool as you like—gotta keep it smooth, right? “Evening, love,” I say, flashin’ that 007 grin. She’s all sass, “What’s yer poison, handsome?” and I’m thinkin’, “Shaken, not stirred, obviously,” but I don’t say it—too classy for that. Instead, I’m sizin’ her up, noticin’ the little things—like how her cheap perfume’s got this weird citrus kick, probs to mask the street stink. Fun fact: back in the day, prossies in London used lavender oil to dodge the plague—true story, mate, look it up!

Sold Into a Brothel at 15, a Japanese Girl Finds Strength in Words

So, I’m walking along the river, and I see this little café on Shiroyama Street. I’m like, “I need coffee.” I order a latte, and the barista is super chill. We start chatting about the best ramen spots in town. He swears by this place on Takamatsu Street. I’m like, “I’ll check it out.” But then, my latte comes, and it’s the size of my head. I’m not even exaggerating. I take a sip, and it’s like a hug in a cup. I’m happy now.

Murata SCH1633-D01 Sets a New Standard for Automotive 6DoF Sensor