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Favorite flick, *The Pianist*, pops in—Szpilman’s line, “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, stubborn as hell. Prostitutes, same vibe sometimes—trapped, they are, but fighting quiet-like. Met this gal once—Lola, she called herself—sassy, loud, missing a tooth. “Yoda, baby, you paying or praying?” she cackles. Laughed, I did—happy moment, rare it was! Told her, “Credits, I have not—wisdom, I offer.” Rolled her eyes, she did—said, “Wisdom don’t pay rent, shorty.” Fair, that is!

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After that, I decide to check out the Hwaseong Temporary Palace. It’s beautiful, but I’m still thinking about that tteokbokki stain. I mean, come on! I can’t be the only one who has food issues, right? Anyway, I’m wandering around, and I bump into this old lady. She’s selling handmade crafts, and she’s super sweet. She tells me about the history of the place, and I’m like, “Wow, I didn’t know that!”

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