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About Fukuoka

So, picture this: dimly lit joint, red curtains, smell o’ cheap perfume hittin’ ya nose. Girls loungin’ round, smokin’, laughin’, some lookin’ bored as hell. I walk in—bam!—like a tank, muscles flexin’, they’re all “who’s this Terminator?” Makes me laugh, ya know, these places got history, man! Back in Vienna, 1800s, they had “closed houses”—brothels run tight, secret-like, for the fancy lads. Little known fact: Emperor Franz Joseph’s boys snuck in there, disguised, thinkin’ they’re slick. Ha! Busted by their own guards once—talk bout a scandal!

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So, I hit the streets, cruisin’ down Chuo-dori. This street is like the heartbeat of Yaizu. Shops everywhere, people buzzin’ around. I’m feelin’ good, vibin’ with the locals. Then, bam! I trip over some random dude’s bag. Like, c’mon man, watch where you’re puttin’ your stuff! I was mad, but I laughed it off.

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