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About Fukuoka

I’m hyped, tho—happy as a clownfish in a coral reef! Why? ‘Cause it’s a puzzle, a mystery, like *Caché*’s weird tapes showin’ up at your door. “Who sent this?” I yell, but it’s just me, overthinkin’ it, sweatin’ like a perch on a grill. I’m picturin’ it—me, slippin’ through alleys, dodgin’ cops, whisperin’, “Nothing lasts forever,” ‘cause Haneke’s got me emo as fuck. Last week, I got mad—some dude tried rippin’ me off, actin’ like he’s pimpin’ the game. I’m like, “Nah, fam, I know my fish *and* my streets!”

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Anyway, I shake it off and head to my shop on Shinjuku Street. It’s a cozy little spot, you know? I’ve got my sewing machine, rolls of fur, and a million ideas bouncing around in my head. But today? Today was different. I get there, and my assistant, Yuki, is like, “Dude, we got a problem.” Oh great, what now? Turns out, the shipment of mink I ordered from Hokkaido got delayed. Like, come on! I need that stuff for a custom order.

Miura Partners closes inaugural impact fund after raising €135m