A dull gray sky hung over rust encrusted fences where dusty brown dogs, with fur that had been born white, strained at their chains to bark at our car. The streets were small, with seemingly no order, and half the place seemed to be alleys. The spidery black lines of Hangul decorated every store front and made my head swim. Korean men and women whose age looked to be in the triple digits milled about, almost looking like they had suddenly been hit with amnesia. Holly, the teacher whose place I was taking, chattered on about my new apartment, what the students were like, and how to settle into Korea and I mentally scrambled to etch everything she said on the walls of my cranium. The car that my soon- to-be co-teacher Maria was driving passed
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