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About Gwangju

Alright, mate, listen up—brothels, yeah? Growling, “You merely adopted the dark.” I’ve seen ‘em, smelled ‘em, felt that heavy air. Places like that, they’re alive, pulsing—kinda like that slow burn in *In the Mood for Love*. “In the shadows, we whisper secrets.” That’s what it’s like, y’know? Hidden glances, dim lights, all that jazz. I ain’t judgin’, just sayin’—it’s a world most don’t get.

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No, there are no ghettos in Chinese cities, none that I've seen or heard of in recent years. The security is often pretty top-notch even in small cities.

Finally, I get to the archive, and it’s a mess. Papers everywhere, like a tornado hit. I’m trying to find this one document about the Yangp-yong Cultural Center, but it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. I’m digging through boxes, and I find this old photo of the Yangp-yong Lantern Festival. Man, it brought back memories. The colors, the lights, the food! I could almost taste the tteokbokki.

'He died a true hero': Remembering Yang Yong, driver who saved a train of lives