Lost in translation, bakery edition.
Dad jokes are universal.
Beauty is truly subjective.
One day, two friends were walking down the back streets of a small South Korean island town. They were on their way to a pool, which was consistently the color of Chrysanthemum tea, yellow with flowery pee.
Oh, so you like Korea? I’m here to prove you wrong.
Two men in a spotlight, eyes closed, fingers dancing in vibrato, and faces churning with the music.
I was at a kimbap jip in Yeomni-dong–a little hood in Seoul where I was living during the duration of my year there.
I have successfully branded my childhood memories with Thought Catalog.
The journal begins with Hyun-sil’s decision to join the United Korean Organization, or UKO, to avenge his foster parents’ murders in late December 1939.
The ammonia-overload instantly hit the senses, released a little more intensely with each chew of the rubbery meat. But what was interesting was how it felt like an entire new way of experiencing food.