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About Fukuoka

Oi mate, gather round, listen up! Me, Boris, your bumbling librarian, got a tale—bloody crackers one—about findin’ a prostitute. Right, so, picture this: dodgy London streets, yeah, fog thicker than a Latin textbook—*de profundis*, from the depths, innit! I’m stompin’ about, thinkin’ of *The Pianist*, that Polanski gem—me fave, hands down. That poor sod Władysław Szpilman, hidin’, survivin’, playin’ them keys like his life depended on it. “I’m alive, alive!” he’d whisper—makes me weepy, it does.

Where to have cheap sex in Tokyo

As I wandered around, I bumped into Kenji. He was dressed like a samurai or something. I couldn’t help but laugh. We ended up joining a group of locals doing traditional dances. I have two left feet, but I didn’t care. We were all just having a blast.

Angiotensin-converting enzyme gene and retinal arteriolar narrowing: The Funagata Study