Seoul Distractions

Coffee table, open laptop. On my left, notebooks, scripts, magazines, and biographies are stacked neatly from largest to smallest, like tiers on a wedding cake. A promotional ballpoint from my dry cleaner and a single pound coin rests atop the pyramid as the bride and groom. On my right, the best store-bought mocha I've had since I've been back in The States leaves little wet rings I keep wiping away with my finger.

I have decided not to go to Paris so that I can finish my treatment without distraction, confident that it is the best work I can do. I am excited about the work, and that keeps me from missing him. So does the mobile next to the coffee. I’m thankful for his big hoodie and his silent, companionable presence.

Seoul does linger, though, taking me away from the present. Like a lover whispering unanswerable questions in my ear, Seoul seduces me away from the sensible, without concern for the consequences. Seoul is my leap of faith, and like all faith that is true, it feels safe, immortal, unshakable.

I look forward to writing my Seoul stories after more of the work is done. I keep them close now. We flirt like imminent lovers that have kissed a hundred times with their eyes before their lips ever touch. They tease me with scenarios they know I can't write about. I smile at them for too long, emboldening them to come closer.

But for now, even a brief reflection has filled me. Thank you, Seoul. And thank you to the people who awe me with their power and their beauty, and who, despite my sometimes feeling like a child swimming in a lake during a storm, make me feel significant, too.

Now, with LA rain and jazz as my background, time for work.