Buzzing and Blood.
So picture this: Seoul. Wednesday. 7am. The sun was just beginning to rise over the concrete jungle that I found myself walking in. I was on my way to work and had just stepped off the subway and was making my way through the maze of buildings and shops in an area known as Apgujeong, a ritzy little district that boasts the highest number of plastic surgery clinics per capita then anywhere else in Southeast Asia. Go Korea Go. I was feeling good; the sun was shining, a cool morning breeze was happening, I had a fresh cup of coffee in hand and my favorite Coldplay song in my ears. The streets were humming with the morning routines of its people and I, for one, was content to simply be a part of it all. In the midst of my musings, I somehow sensed commotion behind me and to my left. I was in the process of turning around when something struck me in the small of my back and my fresh cup of coffee was unceremoniously dumped all over the clean, white shirt I had chosen to wear that morning. ...