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About Fukuoka

I got into it once, right? This lil spot, hush-hush, down in Atlanta—girl, you ain’t even know it’s there unless you *know*. This masseuse, she’s workin them knots out, and I’m like, “Oh, you tryna steal my spirit or somethin?!” Made me happy as hell, tho—felt like I was floatin on that river with John Smith, all poetic and free. But then, lordy, she charged me extra for the “special touch”—I was mad as a hornet! “What you mean $50 more?!” I ain’t no fool, but I paid it, ‘cause—whew—that release? Worth it.

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So, I finish up, and we head to the castle. It’s beautiful, man. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom, and I’m just standing there, soaking it all in. I snap a few pics for the ‘gram. You know, gotta show off a little. Kenji’s cracking jokes, and I’m laughing so hard I almost drop my phone.

Locally produced tiles clad walls and table in Blue Bottle Coffee shop in Nagoya