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About Busan

So, picture this—I’m drivin’, late, lost in thought. Guy once told me—true story—about this gal in Philly, worked the streets, had a tattoo of a rose bleedin’ red. Said she’d sing Sinatra to clients, off-key, made ‘em laugh. Ain’t that somethin’? Made me happy, thinkin’—people out there, livin’, hustlin’, got quirks. But then—bam—anger kicks in. The system, man, it screws ‘em over. No safety net, no way out—pisses me off.

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I want to map out or at least list all the red light districts, glass houses, and illegal places of prostitution and human trafficking in Korea.

After a mini freak-out, I decide to take a walk along Gyeongpo Beach. I need to clear my head, right? The beach is beautiful, with the waves crashing and the sun setting. I’m walking along the sand, and it’s like therapy. I see families, couples, and even a group of kids playing soccer. It’s all so picturesque. I’m feeling a bit better, but then I step on a sharp shell. Ouch!

Gangneung 2017: Canada wins record fourth world title