The Dreamers, a story of denial, withdrawal, and sexuality– how French.

(written, but unpublished from August 23, 2017, age 24)


The Dreamers is not for the sexually faint of heart, but it is truly a story to behold.

The lines that stayed with me:

“One of us, one of us!”


The scenes that stayed with me:

When Isabelle’s hair catches on fire, and Matthew is instinctively aflutter with trying to take it out and the scene fuzzes out and in–and everything seems to just slow down with that gaze..

Obviously, one of the most sensual and irreverent sex scenes I’ve ever seen. Isabelle and Matthew having sex for the first time in the kitchen whilst Theo makes some eggs for himself in the background, copping a cig, with a literal revolution (student demonstrations) and chaos unfolding on the streets.

Theo and Isabelle playfully slams the door on Matthew in the rain. And he’s locked out. A true third wheel in the most unnatural sense of the word. Matthew is left standing for moments that seem like a life-time, exasperated, dejected, rejected, third-wheeldified. So much passive aggression in this scene. SWEET RICHNESS.

All the gazes!

The best scenes and moments are left untouched so you’ll have to watch the film on your own if you’re curious to and want to understand what the hell I mean from the above.

But here’s a couple of photos to brief you 🙂

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Dancing & Walking Gardens in England

Today is my last day in England and I’m honestly a bit sad to leave.

England ended up being the perfect place for me to rest and freshen up– in part because nothing felt new here.


[For context, often times when you are traveling to a new country and it’s too unfamiliar (whether it be from the transportation style, interpersonal behaviors, lifestyle pace, or type of cuisine), the trip ends up feeling more exhaustive than healing, especially.. when you’ve decked out a week’s itinerary befitting a music band on tour]. Fortunately now, due to the the rampant innovation, cultural and people exchange, and systemic adoption of technologies that have lead economic centers to operate and appear fairly similar to one another, one can expect a growing predictability for navigation and assimilation in any urban or cosmopolitan city. You will quickly feel that New York reminds you of London, London of Seoul, and that Seoul reminds you in turn of a bit of Paris.


Shoreditch Grind – I really appreciate the energy of this neighborhood.


Coffee shops were frequented, a disgusting amount of desserts were dabbled in, and dance floors conquered. I ate this delicious cheese that tasted like caramel fudge (The Gjetost! Mon dieu!). I even danced my first Scottish dance, and met a gentleman in full Scottish garb with dagger.



What is life without dancing to techno in a room full of old master paintings?


Amidst the buzz of catching up with old friends and partaking in some good old entertainment, I was able to spend a great chunk of my stay exploring and appreciating all that nature had to offer unique to the terrain [and sheer size] of its country.




Out to see a boat race on the River Cam.



It was the first time in my life experiencing first-hand so many kinds of birds (they were everywhere, omnipresent, realy all about England) and I’m certainly leaving Heathrow with a newfound affinity for them. Watching their activity across various environments, feeding,


Imagine seeing a horde of birds feeding and sticking their butts in the air as if under a spell of strange choreography, and seeing this against a backdrop of some beautifully landscaped park or skyline– it’s comical.

and passing so gracefully through the weeping branches of willow trees all lent me feelings of relaxed freedom and calm. I felt very glad.IMG_9721.JPG

The pigeons and the geese here were also surprisingly cute here and I sympathize a bit for the ones back home (perhaps if we didn’t treat ours like termites, they might appear more clean and endearing like the ones in England, I don’t know).

I also saw herds of cows in their natural habitat during my walks which was really nice.


Like Gustav Klimt’s The Park. I grew up in a suburban area and close to New York, the city of cities, so I was never exposed to much of anything nature outside of grass, skinny trees, and mountain trails my family would take road-trips to. And half of my childhood interaction with nature was spent in the shelter of a car, with me looking through a window.


I walked nice trails in well protected parks multiple-vehicles-wide. And oh! Everything was so well gardened and trimmed.

I smelled flowers with aromas so strong and heavenly I became overwhelmed with feelings of different shades I’ve never felt before.


Captured in a 4 x 6: Me becoming overwhelmed by nature.



This is a beautiful plant I saw, although I have no idea what it is. It reminds me of the skin of freshly picked Concord grapes. Lusciously juicy.


My favorite. If a flower was a pretty song.

Overall, this trip was a good time for me to re-center myself, slow down, and to re-learn an appreciation for the things right in front of me.

I am leaving re-charged.

Bises, Soo


Age Doesn’t Lead to Wisdom

Some people say the correlation between age and wisdom is very high.

While that would be beneficial to most to say so, and would be a relief for me if I believed so, we’ve sadly observed the contrary.

The experience argument:

The # of total experiences does not correlate with one’s age, although often times, you can correctly say that you see it trending that way. Taken out of this context, rarely would a person of logic say a whole trend is an accurate representation of its parts.

Experience, and one’s involvement with events, knowledge, and information are not limited to first-hand contact only.

Experience can be attained through second-hand accounts: from books (nonfiction, fiction), from media (news, social networks, entertainment videos, visual media), from people (geography, age, socio-economic class, personal disposition, race, ethnicity).

Age represents the culmination of personal experiences gathered from the number of years one has lived.

One’s age does not predicate the level of maturity attained via the culmination of experience.

Whether these experiences are then consumed consciously and whether the deliberate consumption or “present” consumption of experience ultimately channels into good insights reflective of good character [which is ultimately what wise people seem to to embody], is altogether a whole unique statement to be examined on its own.


You might find a wise 50 year old and still manage to find a 79 year old who simply hasn’t gotten his shit together.

Alternatively, you might find a wise 30 year old to the 59 year old.

A wise 27 year old man to your 56.

These things aren’t doled out to each person by measures as soon as one hits on another year.

You have to have the right character, strive for the right character. (I’d let people argue that one needs to experience some maturity in brain development to experience “wisdom,” but we are talking about the general pool of people who’ve hit adulthood – aka full maturity in the brain and its critical parts.

Age does not beget insight. Age does not beget wisdom.

In the case for wisdom, one can safely argue that being considered wise is conditional to embodying other characteristics that are by nature virtuous or noble.



You see many who are older than you and are markedly hypocritical, but they are not wise.

You see many who are older than you are and who decline to fight on behalf of fellow brethren, and you would not call them wise.

You see old villains and old money and fame mongers, and you would never attribute “wise” to their personages.

You can call an old man all these things: clever, astute, sharp, wise, but you can never just assume or generalize that the old man is wise simply because he is of that age, just like you can not assume one has become measurably smarter because he has reached the age of 80, but sadly, the bulk of our society continues to reinforce this poorly defended theory into their lifestyles, in daily human interaction and decision making

For example, you might see a person:

Who is CEO of a Fortune 500 company at 40 and is incredibly sageous.

Who is a successful CEO at 65 and incredibly selfish, hypocritical, and prone to deal in unethical business ventures.

No amount of age will make up for a person’s lack of character development if said person has only used one’s experiences in life to serve and reflect off of his/her agenda.

Age and wisdom is mutually exclusive.

I’m starting to realize as I write this that maybe the you I’m writing to is just me, and that I am perhaps mixing the word wisdom with other virtues and characteristics of nobler substance [such as selflessness, people vision, compassionate worldliness].

But I believe these terms must be considered interchangeably. I don’t think this allows for mutual exclusivity.

Maybe I’m just being crazily [or naively] self-righteous. Who knows.



Osamu Yokonami: Is it About the Journey or the Destination?

Osamu Yokonami is a Japanese artist and photographer based in Tokyo who devotes his lenses to the development of photographs contemplating homogeneity. His group portraitures are regarded for invoking notions about identity, the collective, naturality, and youth.


Could be wrong, but pretty sure this is the photo that first pulled me to Yokanami.

I first became acquainted with Yokonami’s works at De Soto Gallery’s exhibition at the 2015 PULSE Art Fair in New York. His “Assembly” series was on display that day, and it most piqued my interest out of the swarms of art set out for many an art viewer’s purveyance. I ended up finding myself walking back to that booth section multiple times that Saturday afternoon, and since then, I’ve been  following Yokonami’s activities for nearly two years now (that’s what good art does to you peeps).

I find pleasure  in the idyllic qualities and the strange calm surrounding the odd  symmetries of his photographs- unsettling, a little disconcerting, and also very beautiful.


I don’t really know what exactly I feel when I see his photographs, it doesn’t remove me and it doesn’t forcefully push me to a place where I’m aggressively thinking about an issue, a topic, or a stance.

Yokonami invites us to dwell on the journey for truth rather than the desination, I think. Or that’s what I feel.

The closest description I could put in regards to Yokonami’s effect on me is that his works put me in a deliberate state of an “in between” (As I see it, my mind occupies at this moment of seeing a super charged space with elements ie. high stimulation + calm + little sparkly little things firing everywhere in harmonious and  purposeful direction, but I can’t really determine the end of where they’re going (not sure there’s supposed to be one, or if that’s the even the point/goal)). I feel curiosity seeing his works and pondering on them is an experience beatific.

Scroll through his series of 100×2 photos of female children posed with fruits (apples and oranges) on their shoulders– and you’ll feel something too I bet.



Personalities and energies of the children I found myself gravitating towards –felt increasingly in this descending order.