Summer Sunset behind Grain Silo

The river was beautiful and wise. There were the two of them being happy in a new way. For here, there was no man, no woman, no master, no yellow, no black, no white. We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

Slow motion low level shot of ripples in a puddle in Seoul at days.

I find that the harder I work, the more luck I seem to have.

To increase the chances of a writer trying to kill themselves, cut off their hands.

In a forest of a hundred thousand trees, no two leaves are alike. And no two journeys along the same path are a like

Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky

The secret to a good morning is to watch the sunrise with an open heart.