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About Fukuoka

Dunno, mate, she’s grim but—kinda sad, y’know? “What is it, precious?” I thinks, wonderin’ if she’s got dreams past the wharf. Maybe she’d fancy a gnome like Amélie’s, somethin’ daft to smile at. Prolly not—too busy fleecin’ drunks. Still ticks me off, tho—world’s cruel, makin’ her sell herself cheap. “Stupid, fat hobbit!” I’d yell at them punters, not her. She’s just fishin’, like me—different bait, is all.

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Later, I head over to the Sakaidecho Market. Man, that place is a treasure trove! Fresh veggies, local crafts, and the best street food. I grab some takoyaki, and it’s heavenly. But then, I spill some on my shirt. Great. Just great. Now I look like a walking food disaster.