#korean

It comes down to this: we're pieces of equipment To be counted and signed for. On occasion some of us break down, And those parts which can't be salvaged Are replaced with other GI parts, that's all. ↗

— Rolando Hinojosa

#poetry #war #death

When he reached the last hole he saw, far to the west, a series of rockets bloom in the sky. He watched their green and yellow and red petals arch across the horizon, and fade into the gloom of the earth. It was very beautiful, but he recognized them for Chinese rockets. ↗

— Pat Frank

#warfare #beauty

When you leave, weary of me, without a word I shall gently let you go. ↗

— Kim Sowol

#heartache #heartbreak #korean-poetry #letting-go #love

I re-invented my image so many times that I'm in denial that I was originally an overweight Korean woman. ↗

— David Bowie

#i #image #korean #many #ny times

I got called back into the Navy during the Korean War. ↗

— Daniel J. Evans

#called #during #got #i #into

To call something an 'enhanced interrogation technique' doesn't alter the fact that we thought it was torture when the Japanese used it on American prisoners, we thought it was torture when the North Koreans used it, we thought it was torture when the Soviets used it. You know, it's almost the moral equivalent of saying that rape is an enhanced seduction technique. ↗

— Ted Koppel

#alter #american #call #enhanced #equivalent

Chang-bo took to his bed, or rather to the quilts on the floor that was all they had left. His legs swelled up like balloons with what Mrs. Song had come to recognize as edema — fluid retention brought on by starvation. He talked incessantly about food. He spoke of the tofu soups his mother made him as a child and an unusually delicious meal of steamed crab with ginger that Mrs. Song had cooked for him when they were newlyweds. He had an uncanny ability to remember details of dishes she had cooked decades earlier. He was sweetly sentimental, even romantic, when he spoke about their meals together. He would take her hand in his own, his eyes wet and cloudy with the mist of his memories. “Come, darling. Let’s go to a good restaurant and order a nice bottle of wine,” he told his wife one morning when they were stirring on the blankets. They hadn’t eaten in three days. Mrs. Song looked at her husband with alarm, worried that he was hallucinating. She ran out the door to the market, moving fast and forgetting all about the pain in her back. She was determined to steal, beg — whatever it took — to get some food for her husband. She spotted her older sister selling noodles. Her sister wasn’t faring well — her skin was flaked just like Chang-bo’s from malnutrition — so Mrs. Song had resisted asking her for help, but now she was desperate, and of course, her sister couldn’t refuse. “I’ll pay you back,” Mrs. Song promised as she ran back home, the adrenaline pumping her legs. Chang-bo was curled up on his side under the blanket. Mrs. Song called his name. When he didn’t respond, she went to turn him over — it wasn’t diffcult now that he had lost so much weight, but his legs and arms were stiff and got in the way. Mrs. Song pounded and pounded on his chest, screaming for help even as she knew it was too late. ↗

— Barbara Demick

#north-korean-famine #change

We must do all we can to help improve the deplorable human rights situation of the North Korean people. ↗

— Evan Bayh

#help #human #human rights #improve #korean

It was during this terrible night that the three wounded died, and the jeeps froze solid. ↗

— Pat Frank

#korean-war #war #death

People should eat warm foods,it'll give them warm heart.. ↗

— Dalja's spring

#food