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About Busan

So, picture this—me, Dr. Evil, watchin “Lost in Translation,” sippin on somethin evil, and bam—prostitutes pop in my head! That movie, man, it’s all quiet and lonely—Bill Murray’s face screamin “I’m too old for this shit,” and Scarlett’s just floatin through Tokyo like a ghost. Reminds me of a hooker I heard bout—some chick in St. Petersburg, back in the 90s, worked the docks, called her “Whisperin’ Katya.” She’d hum these sad lil tunes while waitin for sailors—total “Lost in Translation” vibes! Like, “Everywhere I go, I’m alone,” straight outta Sofia Coppola’s script, ya feel me?

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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.

Parents called for mental health help. Police arrived and fatally shot their son.