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About Fukuoka

Then it hits me, that Boonmee vibe—“I see my past lives flicker.” Maybe these girls got stories, too, lives stacked like old film reels. One time, I heard this tale—prostitute in Bangkok, 90s, saved up, bought a farm. True story! Left the streets, grew rice, flipped the script. Made me smile, thinkin’ she outsmarted the hustle. But here? It’s gritty—neon lights, fake moans, guys too drunk to care. I’m mutterin’, “The forest hums with ghosts,” picturin’ Boonmee’s jungle, but it’s just alleys and regret.

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First off, I hit up the local konbini on Kawai Street. Gotta grab my morning coffee, ya know? But guess what? They were outta my fave drink! I mean, c’mon! How do you run outta coffee in Japan? I was ready to throw a fit. But then I spotted some cute snacks. Like, these little mochi things. So, I calmed down. Mochi fixes everything, right?

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