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What suprised me? How some o’ ‘em got hearts o’ gold under the grit. One lass—swear it—told me ‘bout her kid she’s feedin’ back home. “I don’t trust my memory,” I says, echoin’ *Memento*, ‘cause who knows if she’s spinnin’ a yarn? Still, tugged me heartstrings, it did. Me quirks? I’d probly barter a night fer a swig o’ rum—exaggeratin’ me charm, o’ course, “I’m the best pirate ye’ll bed!” Ha! Sarcasm’s me blade—cuts through the bilge.

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So, I roll outta bed, right? Sun’s barely up, and I’m already feelin’ the vibes. Rumoi’s got this chill morning air, ya know? I grab my coffee from that little joint on Kiyokawa Street. Best brew in town, no cap. I’m sippin’ my joe, thinkin’ about the trees I gotta check today.

I went to see the Rumoi Main Line, which is about 100 years old [Fukagawa-Rumoi]