Admiral Yi Sun-Sin

King Sejong’s Hangul

Myeongdong Cathedral

Insadong

Street Art – Hongdae

like shards of light splintered through the trees,

separated only by shadows.

a certain scene

when my heart isn’t seeing

My ears deceive

a certain truth

when my heart isn’t listening

My hands wonder

a certain deception

when my heart isn’t feeling

My mind contorts

a certain reality

when my heart isn’t open

All that remains,

is the heartfelt pursuit of truth

We closed our eyes

and said a prayer

held our breath and…

we jumped

hoping to

capture the past

hands clutched tight

knowing it was already too late

Filed under: When words don't work Tagged: getalife, ghosts, kittens, nostalgia, photography ]]> http://seouladventurer.wordpress.com/2013/03/08/chasing-ghosts/feed/ 6 seouladventurer We closed our eyes and said a prayer http://seouladventurer.wordpress.com/2013/03/08/hello-to-fall/ http://seouladventurer.wordpress.com/2013/03/08/hello-to-fall/#comments Fri, 08 Mar 2013 08:10:49 +0000 SeoulAdventurer http://seouladventurer.wordpress.com/?p=1381 ]]> A visit to the Secret Garden, Autumn beginning 2012.

All photos are unedited save the last two (duh). I was trying my luck/hand/skills at photo editing, which is not my thing as I prefer naked pics, but there, I tried, anyway.

Reblogged from Broken Light: A Photography Collective:

Photo taken by contributor Carrie Hilgert, a 36-year-old photographer and self-portrait artist from Northeast Kansas. After venturing into digital photography, she became interested in documenting her life with self portraits. This became particularly helpful when her life started to fall apart due to depression. All her other creative outlets left her, but she could always process her very dark feelings with self portraits.

Read more… 357 more words

I have also started a new blog for my adventures in Cape Town post travelling in South Korea for 2 years and 3 months – find it here - Life on the Side.

The search for my creative self continues.

             Halmunee and the sky – Massimo Park

“Can’t you rebook it? I’ve got teaching at 4.”

             “He’s fully booked until next month. If she doesn’t get in to see him she’ll have to wait another month.”

             “Fine. I’ll reschedule my classes, ” I said through gritted teeth, thinking I would have to reschedule my entire week.  MY week. Why do I have to do this? Why don’t my parents take her to the specialists? After all, it is my mother’s mom. The endless appointments with doctors and specialists for my grandmother’s heart problem was taking its toll on my busy schedule. I was trying to complete my Master’s degree and hold down a full-time job tutoring students.

             “Come on halmunee!” I said impatiently as she carefully measured each step of the stairs. Immediately, I was overcome with guilt and I offered her my arm and waited patiently for her to descend the steps centimetres at a time, while I seethed inside. Once we were inside my car, she apologized for troubling me all the time and said she should die quickly so she wouldn’t have to burden me anymore.

             “No, halmunee, guenchun-ha” using one of the few words i knew in Korean, the all-purpose catch word “guenchun-ha” meaning “it’s ok, it’s alright”, yea, everything was ok, everything was alright, but then, why was i clenching the steering wheel so hard?

Why did I dream about completing my Master’s degree and finally being free of my family to escape to a job overseas, ironically in Korea, the land where my family came from?

I didn’t want to deal with my family’s problems anymore. My family’s problems! Not mine!

             I dropped her off at the apartment and told her I would pick her up tomorrow for the appointment at four. I went straight to work, running late, as usual.

             The next day, I knocked on the door to her apartment. I knocked louder, but I didn’t hear her slow shuffling feet and the soft inquiring voice, “Who is it?” even though she knew it was me. She was terrified of somebody forcing their way in. I thought it was some kind of remnant reflex from her experiences during the Korean War, but perhaps all old people feel so vulnerable.

             I opened the door with the spare key i had and as I entered her tiny apartment with the tv and sofa and the Catholic paraphernalia hanging all over the walls, I ignored the loneliness that carpeted the whole apartment. I entered her bedroom.

             “Halmunee?” I called out quietly, for she appeared to be sleeping. She was on the bed, her face set like a grim mask, like one of the traditional wooden masks carved by villagers in Korea that seemed to be smiling and yet grimacing at the same time. I approached her bed and touched her arm, “Halmunee?”

             She didn’t move and I noticed now she wasn’t breathing. I’d never learned how to take someone’s pulse, so I put my ear to her heart, and I heard the sky.