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A city is nothing without life on the streets. I’m not crazy about cities (always been a countryside kinda girl), but there’s something about the endless mill of people and the bright lights.
You have to walk on the streets yourself to understand the magic. Or not (if you detest noise and people).
The week was rainy. Drizzled everyday. Though it sometimes irritated me, there was something about seeing the streets through fog/rain and under an umbrella.
There’s also something about wandering the streets, not understanding most of what’s being said. Most amusing was when people spoke to me in Korean, assuming that I was one of their own, then chuckling to themselves as they watch me shake my head furiously, wide-eyed. And then speaking to me in Japanese, assuming that if I wasn’t from Korea, I had to be from Japan.
Drizzle + People + Streets + Lost in Translation.
There’s something immensely romantic about that formula.