Valentina Yangp Yong Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Changwon

So, brothels—grimy, loud, smells like sweat n’ cheap perfume. Been around forever, right? Like, ancient Rome had ‘em—called ‘em lupanars, wolf dens, ‘cause the girls howled for coin! Haha, savage, huh? Makes me laugh, but also—kinda sad, y’know? These folks, hustlin’, survivin’. Gets me all worked up—angry at the world sometimes. Why’s it gotta be like that?

For a short time only:

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.

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