CROWDS OF youth roam around the streets, occasionally stopping and peering into café windows for seats, or walking into bars to shed the fatigue of a long day. The night in Sinchon is a hotspot embraced by flickering signs, heavy bass, and excitement. Untainted by the usual chaos is a small dimly lit alley near the main road. From behind a pile of trash, a man emerges with his vehicle, preparing for his night shift. It is hard not to notice him—not when he is wearing neon. He seems to be moving with purpose: he walks up to the arranged row of dull grey bins, pushes the content down the truck, and, without looking back, hops back on, driving off to an unknown direction.
Yang Soung-hyun email@example.com
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