the concrete room

When I was in university, back before I came to Korea, I thought of myself as being in a room made of concrete. Plain, solid, inescapable. There was one door in that room, and for me, it was Korea. My exit from that life was to move to Korea to teach.

It’s really interesting to look at that room from the outside. Because outside of that box-like room was another, bigger, box-like room. I do have more freedom now. More opportunities. More space to breathe.

But it’s still a box. I think it says “comfort zone” on it. I haven’t found a door yet. Maybe there isn’t one.

Everyone has a box, right? We are all trapped, to some extent, inside some box or another. Maybe we realize it, maybe not. I dare say some are bigger than others. I dare say some people will leave those rooms one day.

But for now, for me, I am inside this room.


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