Autumn comes in a wave of suddenness in this new old-world.
A week and half ago I put on a thin long sleeve shirt for the first time. A week ago I put my tennis shoes on for the first time in months. This week I am wearing the inside layer of my winter jacket. The wind whips my hairs in a glorious display and the spray of cold meet my cheeks every time I open my door. Leaves litter and loiter everywhere, like the colorful icing on a cupcake, my park changing colors like a woman swatch in a brand new gown. Winter, winter it whispers, with the death of the warmth even in the sun's perserverence of brightness.
I always feel some morning I will wake up and be number to this world, accustom to its difference, but I live blown wide open in such a state of awe and awareness, hunger and curiosity. Something new to see and hear and see coming into fruition. Bring on the winter Korea. Bring me the first snow, and the blistery cutting wind, the weather that makes you too cold for snow, the skiing and ice fishing trips, the emergence of Christmas and the turn of tales, the calendar and the season.
I always feel some morning I will wake up and be number to this world, accustom to its difference, but I live blown wide open in such a state of awe and awareness, hunger and curiosity. Something new to see and hear and see coming into fruition. Bring on the winter Korea. Bring me the first snow, and the blistery cutting wind, the weather that makes you too cold for snow, the skiing and ice fishing trips, the emergence of Christmas and the turn of tales, the calendar and the season.