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About Sapporo

I saunter over, cool as you like—gotta keep it smooth, right? “Evening, love,” I say, flashin’ that 007 grin. She’s all sass, “What’s yer poison, handsome?” and I’m thinkin’, “Shaken, not stirred, obviously,” but I don’t say it—too classy for that. Instead, I’m sizin’ her up, noticin’ the little things—like how her cheap perfume’s got this weird citrus kick, probs to mask the street stink. Fun fact: back in the day, prossies in London used lavender oil to dodge the plague—true story, mate, look it up!

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But then, I get a text from my buddy. He’s like, “Dude, meet me at the Itoigawa Station.” I’m thinkin’, “Ugh, fine.” So, I hustle over there. The station’s kinda cute, with its wooden architecture and all. But when I get there, he’s late. Like, seriously? I’m standin’ there, watchin’ the trains come and go, and I’m just like, “Where is this guy?”

Figure 10. (a) TEM image of graphite-2H and graphite-3R in fracture...