Mary Kim

무심코 가른 귤 한 조각에 작은 귤이 다정하게 붙어 있는 걸 발견한 것

A hopelessly outdated post-pandemic reflection, because apparently, even nostalgia has an expiration date.

Before love was wrapped in ribbons and roses, measured in candlelit whispers—it already was. A love that does not fade, waver, or ask to be earned. In a world chasing fleeting romance, the greatest love is the one that simply is—steady, unchanging, already ours.

This isn’t just me. This is a collective crisis—stolen from Instagram captions, late-night confessions, and group chat memes. We’re all in this together.

Hi, I’m back—it’s been a while. I know how winter can settle inside you, turning days into a blur, making silence heavy. But if I’ve learned anything, it’s that winter always feels endless—until it isn’t. If you’re in that place, here's a reminder: you’re not alone.

Hi December, you’re here quicker than my last Amazon order. To celebrate, I’ve written a poem to kick things off—though who knows how this month will go. Last year, you gave me the flu, so here’s hoping for less drama and more seasonal lattes this time around.

There’s something about the end of the year that feels like

가을은 마치 한숨처럼, 우리가 잠시 멈춰 서서 숨을 고르게 만드는 계절이다. 따뜻한

Isn’t it funny how that one person just keeps popping into your mind?

That familiar fragrance seemed stronger, fuller, as if the mishap had unleashed the true essence of those beans.

It whispers, “Breathe in this moment; it is a gift.” The aroma of pumpkin spice mingles with the earthy scent of fallen leaves, igniting nostalgia and warmth in our hearts.