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About Fukuoka

Okay, so imagine me, Kim, sippin’ a latte, spying some chick in fishnets. I’m like, “Is she? Nah, maybe?” My brain’s screamin’, “What’s her story?” Maybe she’s got dreams, like in the movie—those kids starin’ at the sky, hopin’. Gets me emo, tbh. I’m happy they’re out there survivin’, but, like, surprised how sneaky it all is! You’d never guess who’s who—could be your barista, ha!

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A woman reveals to a boy that she may not be his real mother and that there are eight potential mother candidates he must meet to find his true mother.

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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