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About Fukuoka

Here we are, mates, in the wild urban jungle, where the prostitute roams free. Calmly now, like a gazelle on heels, she struts, a marvel of nature’s chaos. Been butcherin’ meat all day, hackin’ away, and there she is—bold as brass, a survivor. Reminds me of *Mad Max: Fury Road*, ya know? “What a day, what a lovely day!” she’d yell, dodgin’ creeps like war rigs in the dust.

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Next item up? A vintage samurai sword. I’m pumped. I mean, who doesn’t want a piece of history? I start my spiel, and suddenly, this lady in the back yells, “That’s cursed!” I’m like, “Cursed? Lady, it’s a sword, not a haunted house!” But she’s adamant. Turns out, she’s a local historian. She goes on this wild rant about how it belonged to some famous samurai. I’m just standing there, trying not to laugh.

Clay and Courage: Officer Emerson Ami Finds Peace in Pottery