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About Fukuoka

Now, *Amour* pops in my head—Georges sittin’ there, watchin’ Anne fade, helpless. “I can’t go on,” he says, suffocatin’ her with that pillow. Heavy stuff. And here I am, hagglin’ with this gal, thinkin’—is this what it comes to? Payin’ for a pulse? She’s tellin’ me her rate, and I’m pissed—$200 for an hour? Robbery! I’m like, “Sweetheart, I could buy a damn Timex for that!” She laughs, says, “Time’s tickin’, old man.” Cheeky, I like her already.

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After that chaos, I needed a breather. I wandered over to Tsuno Park. It’s this beautiful spot with cherry blossoms. I sat on a bench, just soaking it all in. The petals were falling like confetti, and I felt... peaceful. But then, my phone buzzed.

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