Cherry death

Around this time of year all the cherries die. The death march begins on the beaches in the south and works its way north. The blossoms that lined my walk to work this week turned a dark red and finally brown.

But before they winked away for the next eleven months, I made it to Seoul Grand Park. After a morning walk through the dark hall of an art show I disappeared into the trees. Overtop the zoo happy smiles rode down the blue and white striped gondola.

The hippo bus trucked through the canopies, wheels crushing dying pedals on the ground. A motorcycle man sped through the shadows as I lay back down on the sidewalk and took in the site above.

Before the blistering heat of summer breaks, there on the last Sunday of cherry season, I was happy it was spring.