Coree Du Nord

Kedongdong Pickles in the making

My writings here must have some kind of attraction. But it's like looking at yourself in the mirror and you just see yourself. It needs someone to tell where the attraction is as everybody has got different angle of looking at beauty. Beauty is subjective and in the eyes of the beholder.
Yesterday the godless north shelled his brother in the south. War is all about land, about territory. Land means survival. The grab for some small piece of island for normal minds is uncomprehending. But international law rules the haul and catch that surrounds island. This eerie thought always creeps for people making islands their permanent home.

I am preparing this house for my sister's family visit next week. They are tagging all the three children along. Children grow very fast nowadays, both body and mind. Young parents don't spend as much time with their small children anymore. But once they've grown, those small minds are unreachable. Those small magic moments will not come, some parents will argue, or insist their children never changed. The love is still there. Of course the love is always there but children need to grow. They need the space and once they found their nooks, their innocent paradisaical minds moves out there. In the world.

I am preparing this house for my sister's arrival. To get more space, I need to throw some things away. That is the hardest part of cleaning.

Oh well, life is so full of indecision.

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