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About Fukuoka

So, escorts—man, they’re like shadows, slippin’ thru life, makin’ cash, dodgin’ judgy eyes. I seen ‘em, late nights, struttin’ bold—makes me happy, y’know? Freedom in that hustle. But damn, it pisses me off when folks act holier-than-thou, like they ain’t got their own mess. *“You’re a mess, Tom Stall,”* I’d say, ‘cept it’s the world that’s messy, not just them escorts.

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So, I rush over to Hitachi-ota Station, and it’s a full-on party! Lights, music, food stalls everywhere. I’m like, “Why didn’t I know about this sooner?” I grab some yakitori, and it’s fire! I’m dancin’ around, livin’ my best life, when I spot that delivery guy again. He’s still smiling, and I’m like, “Dude, what’s your secret?” He just winks and keeps on ridin’.

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