briefly for the thirsty village longing for more.
Prayer answered yet not enough and the fires rage all around us still.
My garden, grateful for now.
|On a leisurely evening walk around the neighborhood sporting a pair of|
Korean traditional linen pants (Baji) he loved to wear with western shirts
|My father, brother, me and my sister on Maru (wooden deck on our house facing the yard) on a sunny day.|
Our house, in fact most of the houses in our neighborhood were built by the Japanese during the occupation (1910 - 1945) mostly by the government officials.
I longed for a Korean style house... so much more beautiful with enclosed gardens, surrounded by inner run of high wooden deck that you stepped up after removing the shoes to enter the rooms... rooms with lacquered rice paper floors!... not many are preserved now I am afraid, but back then, one of my friends lived in one and I used to love to go there to look at the gardens, beautiful roof lines and a single dramatic pine tree in the middle of the garden.
My father was a amateur photographer complete with his own dark room
and all the the paraphernalia that came with it.
Here is a shot he set up so he could be in the picture with us.
|My Cousin, me and my sister on the front deck of our shared long house|
|My father, me, my mother and sister at the beach|
|Me, my mother and sister, same day at the beach|
|My father, 35 years old, my cousin in the back, amazing tie!|
So Mad Men, my niece says...