A woman that hangs out with Professor Suh is throwing books at me. It's a real shittangle.

I'm walking through a building on campus where there are workers doing renovations. A fellow is singing as he polishes the floor. "Careful," he sings, making eye contact, "sharp bits on the ground.

You don't see a lot of hugs in Korea. It is one of my favourite things about living here. No hugging.

"Well..." his defeated expression fades the tiniest bit. "Maybe it would be okay if you yelled."

I haven't been getting much sleep lately, and my dream wife gets suspicious about why I always have to suddenly run off. I tell her about my waking wife and my kids. "I don'