A baby with no name sounds incomplete. In Korea, it’s often the beginning of a careful search for the one word believed to shape an entire life. An essay about fate, identity, and the curious space between becoming someone and being called someone.
A ski day trip to Verbier goes wrong when two kids miss the last gondola down. Thirty years later, I still think about what that night showed me.
A Netflix drama about punishing school bullies sounds like fantasy, until you learn what it’s based on. On Korean education, Switzerland’s alternative, and the parents who might be repeating a lesson they were never taught.
“Would you be interested in interpreting an event?” I had never interpreted in my life. But the moment I heard the word Haenyeo, I knew I’d already said yes.
A podcast about ageing designers brought me back to an old conversation over a glass of wine and a question that seems to follow many of us in creative work: what does time change, and what does it reveal?
A personal reflection about a cat named Noodles, a year without a leash, and a memory that still follows me.
An essay about creative beginnings, abandoned dreams, and how persistence eventually finds its place.
A story about sisterhood, distance, and how understanding grows with time.
One word from the optician — “Age.”
Suddenly I was in the secret club of blurry text, tortoise-shell frames, and unexpected HD vision. A small, funny journey toward accepting what my eyes already knew.
Her hands and face were just a thin layer of skin over bones. Sitting in her wheelchair, she looked at me like a stranger and asked, “Who are you?” In that short, heartbreaking encounter, I saw the blank canvas at the end of life’s journey, forcing a confrontation with what truly matters.
I used to roll my eyes when my dad said, “This is a rare moment. We won’t get many like this.” Now, decades later, I catch myself saying the same thing to my son.
This is a reflection on the quiet shift of watching your child step into independence. It’s about that mix of pride and ache, of letting go without a clear roadmap, and learning how to love from the sidelines.
After three years of moving between Switzerland and the U.S., I’ve learned that fitting in and feeling seen aren’t the same. One place runs on rules and clarity; the other on friendliness and ambiguity. In one, I know the codes by heart. In the other, I’m still decoding what a warm smile or silence might mean. It’s not just about culture—it’s about identity, and the quiet ways acceptance shows up… or doesn’t.