excerpt

“Above all, don't lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love.”

― Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

a poem for sunday

"At Night" by Jimmy Santiago Baca:

I lie in bed
and hear the soft throb of water
surging through the ditch,
from extreme to extreme water bounds,
clumsy country boy,
stumbling over fallen water logs and rubber tires
to meet a lover
who awaits in her parents’ house, window open.

As I used to for love.

Now gray-black hair,
vigorous cheeks, weathered brow, chapped lips,
dismal thoughtful eyes,
I float in brown melancholy on the lazy currents
of memory, studying my reflection
on the water this night,
with distant devotion,
a swimmer who has forgotten how to swim.

Sengeel shipment from home

Warmth

Seoul's cold:

The night is the most difficult time of day lately. I'm talking about the stretch of time between 2-5am when sleep eludes you, and you're fixated on something and nothing. Counting the hours until I have to get up and go to work, it occurs to me exactly one year ago, I landed in Korea for the first time. A year has never felt so long! The days pass slowly and seem to blend into one another, distorting how fast it has gone by. Have I changed more in the past year than in the previous 20? I don't know, but it's a moment to reflect on the future.