Ava Midori Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Fukuoka

I’m walkin’ these streets, right? Seein’ shadows move—makes me mad, tho. All this secrecy, all this bullshit, just to find a prostitute? Pisses me off! Why’s it gotta be so damn hard? But then—boom—there she is, leanin’ on a wall, smokin’ a cig like she owns the night. “You lost, old man?” she says, smirkin’. I laugh, deep and slow, ‘cause damn, she’s bold! Kinda like Yubaba, runnin’ shit, takin’ no crap. Respect, yo.

So where the heck did Midori come from? (spoilers)

Midori finds her mother dead, now as an orphan she must find a new home, she gets invited by a nice gentleman, only to realize that she's been duped by the.

After lunch, I’m feeling good. But then, bam! I step outside, and it’s pouring. Like, monsoon-level rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m cursing the weather gods. “Really? You couldn’t wait an hour?” I duck into a convenience store on Kōen-dōri, and it’s packed with people. Everyone’s just standing there, looking miserable. I’m thinking, “Welcome to Midori, where the weather hates you!”

The Week in Reviews, Op. 485: Midori, Giora Schmidt, Yoonshin Song