On my street lies Choansan, a mountain that has thousands of tombs of aristocrats, eunuchs, and commoners from Korea’s Joseon era. After being sick for a few days and being stuck in a creative rut, I headed up there today to free my mind from the “stuckness,” as though being high up there can make me look down on my worries, as though physically meandering through the mountain can translate to mentally untangling my thoughts.
The marker at the top told me a bit of the cemetery’s history, along with these odd words.
It is such a blessing to have so much nature in the middle of the cemented progressiveness of the city.
The romance and sadness of it was slightly marred by the mild absurdity (yet awesome practicality) of seeing exercise machines along the way.
It was a good afternoon.