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About Fukuoka

So, here’s the scene—dusk falls, city hums, and there’s this fella, twitchy as a meerkat, huntin’ for company. Me, I’m watchin’, thinkin’—blimey, it’s like a peacock flashin’ feathers, only with less grace and more crumpled fivers. Didya know, right, back in Victorian days, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Poetic, that—makes it sound like a bleedin’ tragedy, not a transaction. And here we are, 2025, still at it—humanity’s oldest gig, they say. Ain’t that a kicker?

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Domestic violence, rape — the life of suffering for year old Honoka, who told herself, “I don't ever want to go back there again!

So, I’m walking, trying to shake off the soy sauce and the kid drama. I hit up the Tsuma River. It’s beautiful, man. The water sparkles like diamonds. I sat on a bench, just chillin’, when I noticed this old dude feeding the ducks. He was so into it, like he was the duck whisperer or something. I couldn’t help but smile.

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