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About Fukuoka

Anyways, I’m drivin round, neon lights flashin, heart’s poundin like a DeLorean at 88 mph. “Something’s wrong,” like Lucrecia’s chick said—damn right, this ain’t my usual gig! Saw this gal, all sass, leanin on a pole, and I’m like—Great Scott! She’s pricier than my last audit fine! Made me laugh, tho—imagine balancin *her* books, ha! “I don’t remember,” she’d probly say, dodgin tax questions like in the flick.

What is Osaka’s red-light district?

Finally, I get there, and it’s a whole scene. The client, this dude named Kenji, is pacing like a caged tiger. He’s all stressed about his new glass panels. I mean, I get it, but chill, man! It’s just glass! So, I start measuring, and guess what? The measurements are off. Like, way off. I’m thinkin’, “Did I just step into a parallel universe?”

Local girl with cerebral palsy is achieving her dreams