Early Summer Roll-take

These early summer days are a lot like laying on the floor, listening to the slow turn of a record on the player: time is passing, no matter which way it's looked at (by watch, by clock on the wall, by daylight or night darkness). I've been forever lost in some of the last glimpses that I'll have of South Korea: little ladies walking from school in the drizzling rain, pathways, concrete mazes, weekend dazes.

This past Saturday, Kristin and I took a trip into the city, we thought we'd do a little shopping, and talking to plastic ladies, which turned out to be more interesting than first thought. The glowing halls of Gagnam station are never dull.

We celebrated the passing summer day with red wine, that was scrutinized by our lovely Austrian server, first thought to have corks swimming amongst the juices, he made his way back to the bar; our mouths watered for the mussles and wine we were about to sip, slip through our lips. He later came back, with the most lovely of glass full(s); meanwhile we'd been listening to a loud American guy on date, poor fellow was stuck sitting beneath the loudspeaker, which was playing melodies of French music; we weren't sure what his date made of the whole scene, but we were quite entertained by the scene.

Though we didn't need the entertainment, the mussles, wine, and fries provided every sensory stimulation that we'd ever need.

It's during these small moments I want to take with me from Korea. (Though I'll do without the strange military police stalker we had lean into our table and give us a show of his handcuffs-- the language barrier must have made the situation stranger; sometimes moments must turn more surreal than first thought, I suppose). I'll keep the gaze on those mussles and fries.