The rice field I walk through each day on my way to work looked a little different today. It seems that the harvest season is in full swing, so the farmers who tend to the field decided to give their land a buzz cut and turn their green crops into some greenbacks. Though I try not to get overly analytical about my time here, it’s impossible not to feel certain parallels between the growth of the rice and my own personal journey out here in Korea. When I first arrived here, the field was nothing more than dirt and seeds waiting to be sown. A few months later the first buds started to appear, then after that, green as far as the eye could see. Now it’s harvest time; a time to start collecting your thoughts and start thinking about what to do next. In a few more months the last remnants of the rice plants will be completely gone and the field will be back where it started; just row upon row of empty soil waiting to be filled. And in a few more months, I will be gone and someone new will arrive to take my place. And maybe they will feel just as I feel when they walk past the waist-high stands of rice each day: that they too are just an empty field, waiting to be filled.