South Korea is a land that refuses to stand still. It's as if everything that has ever happened took place only five minutes ago, and everyone is still reeling from the shock and waiting expectantly for whatever comes next. What took the West two hundred years took South Korea twenty; as a result, two generations stand face to face straddling a small expanse of time, bewilderedly trying to make sense of each other.

The consequence of this incredible progression from subsistence to uncompromising capital is a great pressure bearing down on the next generation to keep up and even increase this incredible pace of development. This pressure releases itself in ways most visible - in the face masks hiding yet another teenage nose job, the twenty-something young men moisturising on the subway, the youthful suicides strewn across the tracks at university tube stops. This insurmountable quest for perfect progress, the fear of somehow being left behind and left out of all this visible success, leaves a trail of well-hidden scars, as the past becomes just a speck in the distance of Korea's eye-view.

The people have even perfected a special kind of walk to keep up with the fast pace of life, a kind of half-run shuffle, feet kept close to the ground to prevent slipping, cautious yet determinedly as fast paced as possible. Only two steps forward, and never any back, for that would spell disaster. With change so hard fought, with change the goal in itself, there is no time to look back.

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