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About Fukuoka

Love how they survive, though—grubby, gritty, like Saul dodgin’ death. Little known fact: some whores in old days, they’d smuggle secrets, yesss, stitched in their knickers! Spies in skirts, ha! Bet that’d shock ya, eh? Me fave bit? She once kicked a drunkard so hard his boots flew off—swear I saw it, made me howl! “The shovel, the shovel!” I yelled, picturin’ Saul diggin’ graves. Dramatic? Me? Nah, just truth stretched a bit, heh.

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After that little rage moment, I need a breather. I hit up the Gotsucho Museum of Art. It’s got some sick exhibits. I’m checkin’ out this piece that’s just a giant tree stump. I’m like, “Yo, I could’ve made that!” But then I realize it’s all about perspective. Art is wild, man.