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About Fukuoka

I spot her, leanin on a lamppost, smokin a cig. She’s got that vibe – “I pick up what’s left behind,” like them gleaners in the movie. I saunter over, all smooth, like I’m bout to dine on somethin exquisite. “Hey, darlin,” I say, “how’s the night treatin ya?” She smirks, blows smoke in my face – rude bitch! – and I’m pissed but kinda turned on, ya feel me? That’s the thrill of it – the hunt, the chase, like trackin a fine meal.

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List of obituaries of prominent psychologists who have appeared in the American Psychologist.

After my snack attack, I stroll down to Obita Park. It’s usually a chill spot, but today? It’s packed. There’s a festival or something. People are dancing, music blasting. I’m just standing there, feeling outta place. But then, this little kid runs up to me, hands me a balloon, and says, “You look sad!” I’m like, “Kid, you have no idea.” But I can’t help but smile.

Obita makes first start for Reading FC in more than 700 days