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.
저작권자 © The Yonsei Annals 무단전재 및 재배포 금지