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About Fukuoka

Now, *Werckmeister Harmonies*—you seen it? That whale, massive, rotting—reminds me of her, this prossie I met. She was a mystery, like Tarr’s long shots, yeah? “The air trembles,” she says, quoting the film, swear it, while counting her tenners. Made me laugh—hooker with a cinephile soul! Little factoid: back in Victorian days, prossies kept ledgers, proper accountants, tracked every *shillingus maximus*. Surprised me, that—thought they just, y’know, winged it.

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After that, I decide to hit up the Fujishiro Museum of Language. It’s a small place, but it’s packed with cool stuff. I’m geeking out over the exhibits. There’s this section on dialects, and I’m just soaking it all in. I mean, who knew Fujishiro had its own unique dialect? I’m scribbling notes like a madman.

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