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About Fukuoka

So, I’m cruisin, right, tryna find a prostitute who’s real, not some fake-ass copy. Certified Copy got me deep in my feels—“What’s true, what’s a front?” I say to myself. I spot this chick, all sass, heels clackin like a beat drop. I’m like, “Yasss, queen, you’re the one!” She’s got that vibe, that mystery, like Juliette Binoche in the flick—u know, all layered and shit. I pull up, she’s like, “You lookin for somethin real?” I’m like, “Hell yea, slay!”

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As the day went on, I hit up a few more spots. I walked down to the Yaizu River, and the sunset was epic. The sky was all orange and pink, and I was just standin’ there, takin’ it all in. I thought about how crazy the day was. From trippin’ over bags to seagulls stealin’ my food, it was a lot.

Expat writer explores the fantastical