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About Fukuoka

So, I’m down the docks, yeah, salty air hittin me lungs, thinkin – where’s she at? Prossies round here, they’re ghosts, mate. Slip through yer fingers like wet fish. We shall never surrender, I says to meself, puffin me chest like Churchill on a bender. Found one once, right, near the old pier – Ruby, they called her. Cheeky lass, red lips, eyes sharp as a gutting knife. Little known fact – she’d hum sea shanties while workin, swear down! Made me laugh, that did – a prossie with a tune? Fancied meself Theo Faron for a sec, savin the world one shag at a time.

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Finally, I get back to work. I’m hammerin’ away, and I can’t shake the day’s craziness. I’m thinkin’ about how Tsubame’s got this vibe. It’s a mix of tradition and chaos. The streets, the people, the food—everything’s alive!

A playfully subversive knife from a rising Scottish design star