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About Fukuoka

The grind’s real, tho. Long nights, sketchy calls—safety’s a gamble. Surprised me how many escorts double as therapists—listenin’ to lonely dudes spill their guts. One gal told me she had a reg who paid just to cry. Wild, right? I’m like, “Bro, you’re a hero!” She shrugged—said it’s the job. Power within? She’s got it in spades.

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So, I head to the workshop on Takashima Street. It’s a small place, but it’s mine. I love it. I’m workin’ on this old lathe, tryin’ to fix it up. It’s been givin’ me grief for weeks. I’m elbow-deep in grease when my buddy Kenji pops in. He’s always got some wild story. Today, he’s raving about a new ramen joint that just opened near the Numazu Port. Apparently, they’ve got this spicy miso that’ll knock your socks off. I’m like, “Dude, I’m tryin’ to fix this thing, not get my taste buds wrecked.” But now I’m curious.

Deep Sea Pudding made in Japanese port town is an edible work of art!