A visual cake-walk down the grimy road to immaculate adventure and discovery in Korea.
… 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.