Back Streets of Fukuoka

It was raining in the back streets of Fukuoka. Through it I could see the outline of the ramen restaurant I had been directed to for lunch. It was the kind of misty rain that softens the edges of the world and transforms it into a watercolour, but will soak you through just like any other rain. I smiled at the four standing in the rain… Two couples were already waiting outside, chatting under domed white umbrellas. The door slid open, all faded wood and motorized rollers, and a waitress stepped out to usher me in. I smiled at...

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