02.26.1999
1/13/25 - MondayFirst full day in Japan. Hasn't really sunk in yet. Train system was harder to navigate than I expected. Scary to not know anyone, nor the language. Train conductor guy was really rude to me, feel bad for not knowing Japanese. Currently on the train to Kamakura. Japan is so pretty. Love the… Continue reading journal entries: the week as a microcosm of life
Dear 엄마, I’m writing this letter because I have a lot to say, but I don’t quite have the courage to express them to you yet. As we’re getting older, I’m realizing that life’s too short to not express the way I feel when I feel things. But for some odd reason, I’m just not… Continue reading a letter to my mom
There is a fire burning before me. It is a good flame—sturdy and predictable. It undulates gently, crackling and popping in steady cadence. The crickets are joining in unison now, their song reverberating in the thin November air. As an immature and impulsive child, I would often make fires burn as big and bright as… Continue reading in some ways i have changed
Whenever the sunlight proved too burdensome for me to bear, I found shade in two places. One was the abandoned playground at the back of our red-brick church. I remember meandering along the shaded, narrow path that led to it while listening to soft background music, and because the church lay nestled beneath a hill… Continue reading remembrance of days past
"He ate his breakfast with his back against the tree, reading the magazine while he ate. He had previously read but one story; he began now upon the second one, reading the magazine straight through as though it were a novel. Now and then he would look up from the page, chewing, into the sunshot… Continue reading perfect days
In the scorching summer sun,A young boy is playing soccer by himself. He’s in his front yard, commentating his every move.And here comes Kim! He's driving, dribbling, shoots.... GOAL!!!The neighborhood kids are laughing at him, but he doesn’t mind. He’s wearing the jersey of his favorite player.Manchester United, #13. J.S. Park.His dream is to become… Continue reading dreamer
It is Valentine’s Eve at my mom’s flower shop. I enter through the rear entrance and head straight to the cramped, grimly lit back office to drop off my backpack. My dad—a typically easygoing, happy-go-lucky guy—is absorbed in his work, sipping black coffee while sternly mapping out flower delivery routes at his desk. Between him… Continue reading cleaning roses
marginalia 