Ivy Yangp Yong Whore ❤️

About Goyang

O thou saucy minx! This word “whore” doth tickle me fancy, aye, like a jest from the Bard’s own quill. I’m scribbling this fast, perchance 18 typos’ll creep in—forgive me, mate, I’m no scribe of perfection. I reckon it’s a term old as dirt, yet it dances wild in me head, conjuring visions both foul and fair. ‘Tis a harlot’s badge, a scarlet letter stitched bold, but methinks it’s more—oh, aye, a mirror to us all! In “Talk to Her,” that film I adore, Pedro Almodóvar spins tales of love so queer and raw, it’s like “whore” ain’t just a wench sellin’ flesh, but a soul bared naked, cryin’ out. “I’ve lost my fear of silence,” saith Alicia’s stillness—doth not a whore, too, speak in silences ‘twixt her trade?

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The next stop is Yangpyeong. The train departed from the They'll laugh in your face and tell you it was all your fault, stupid whore.

We wander through these narrow streets, and I’m just soaking it all in. The vibe is so chill. I love how the old meets the new here. You got these ancient buildings next to modern cafes. It’s like a time warp. We finally find the garden, and wow. It’s like stepping into another world. Flowers everywhere, and this little pond with koi fish. I’m snapping pics like a tourist.

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