// INBOX
// inbox · 6 threads live
  1. Richard Lee15 Feb 2025
    The inbox is the blog

    Why this site pretends to be an email client — and what that buys a reader who just wants to know what they haven’t seen yet.

    // pinned// Meta// 4 min// flair// unread
  2. Richard Lee29 Jul 2026
    Why can't mine look like that?

    My video's subtitles were boring. John Wick's aren't. What came back wasn't a one-shot — it was a lab.

    // Building// 4 min// flair// unread
  3. Richard Lee12 Jul 2026
    On subtraction

    The best edit is usually a deletion. A short argument for building — and writing — by removal.

    // Essays// 3 min// unread
  4. Richard Lee5 Jul 2026
    Field notes: a summer week in Seoul

    Humidity, convenience-store coffee, and the particular quiet of a city that never quite turns off.

    // Field Notes// 2 min// unread
  5. Richard Lee28 May 2026
    The Office Chair is the bottleneck

    A five-hour session window tiles the day and drifts. A nine-to-six chair catches one whole window a day — never two. So I stopped letting the chair decide.

    // Essays// 3 min// flair// unread
  6. Richard Lee4 Dec 2025
    Field notes: first winter in Seoul

    Sandals to boots. Gloves with the fingertips cut out. Snow that lands in your hair and just stays there. A walk home, in eight beats.

    // Field Notes// 2 min// flair// unread
← Inbox

Field notes: first winter in Seoul

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Richard Lee<richard-y-lee@hotmail.com>·
// Field Notes// 2 min read
// 01
// replay
seoul · december 4 · on the way home

It's December 4th and I'm on my way home from work. This is the first city I've worked in that snows. I'm from Orange County, California, so this is new.

// 02

Orange County has one season.

Sixty-eight and sunny, give or take. People check the forecast there out of habit, not out of need. In Seoul it decides what shoes I wear on my feet.

// 03

The swap

Two purchases and one trade. The gloves have the fingertips cut out, which isn't a style choice, it's so I can answer a message without stopping.

// 04

The ride home

// replay

The front window of the bus is the best seat in the city right now. Everything ahead of you gets erased slowly, then wiped clean, then erased again.

// 05

Snow turns down the volume on a city that never turns off

// replay
// 06

It doesn't melt on you.

My reflection in a glass door, phone held up in front of my face, snow sitting unmelted across the top of my hair.

It's still sitting in my hair, dry, and I've been out in it a while. Rain soaks you. This just lands and stays.

// 07

Traded sunshine for snow and got another season