A bus ride through the city.
Here’s another monochrome confession.
A monochrome perspective of Seoul.
A street walker down a vein of Seoul.
Sometimes I look into the eyes of my students…
… and find a little piece of who I remember myself to be at their age. I watch them say things I could have found myself saying or asking or doing. Do I remember myself properly or am I imposing false memories into an idea only scarcely belonging to my past?
Was I really that funny or that mean or that cute or that prideful?
Did I really do things like that then?
Could I have been that awful?
Could I have been that sweet?
Then I take a step back and realize how much I know of my kids merely by observing them and wonder how much my own teachers must have known about me.
Did my teachers know when I poked my nose or which girl I liked best?
Its so odd to fill the spot in another’s eyes that once belonged to “the tall folk” of my own eyes as a child.
A few architectural shots.
