My neighbourhood was a tucked-away corner of Suwon, a city on the edges of Seoul. Everyone in the vicinity took it upon themselves to make "the white girl with the Korean of a four-year-old" comfortable. This always involved the older ones pushing fruit and vegetables into my hands every time I passed them, or random strangers showing up at my apartment when I was sick to keep me in an endless supply of 죽/Juk (a rice porridge dish, bland and smooth, and comforting) because they knew I didn't have anyone to make me some.

Nearly every evening, I would walk by her stall as I set out to do some street photography - but my favourite, my absolutely favourite - was when I would unexpectedly say something in Korean as I passed, and her face would light up in surprise and we would part ways, both of us laughing.

I'm always grateful I was able to capture at least one the moments.