Process Diary #12 📚

A small, but lasting image. And a glimpse of an ending.

Yesterday afternoon, I was stopped by a man whom I have seen several times while walking home from work. “You must teach at the school over there,” he said, pointing over my shoulder. He smiled and rocked slightly back on the stone wall so that his feet became momentarily suspended. “English teacher?” English teacher, I answered—my Japanese broken and e…