[그 순간] 김장 날 한 쌈

Kimjang day: the courtyard of a Korean house in late November, big red rubber basins full of salted napa cabbage halves, three family members in pink rubber gloves and aprons crouched on low plastic stools spreading red chilli filling between the leaves. In the centre, an older woman holds out a freshly rolled bite of cabbage leaf wrapped around filling toward a younger relative's open mouth — the moment just before the bite. Stacked plain plastic tubs, a garden hose, a vinyl mat on the ground. Overcast cold daylight, breath faintly visible. Ordinary everyday Korean faces, photorealistic candid. No text, no letters, no logos.