It was at night time in the courtyard of my home, when I noticed it. The blissful crying of the maemi (매미) had been replaced by the more snarly cirping of their grasshopper cousins. Sunny days and sultry nights are over.
For weeks, their music had wheeped me into sleep. I was startled when hearing the loud rustling of a treeful of maemi for the first time in the shady lanes on campus. And I agree with Herta Müller that you can never enjoy Gabriel García-Márquez’ cicada-ridden Macondo the same way after having spent a summer in Seoul.
As a remembrance: The respective recording at Seoul Sounds (great blog, by the way!)
— sometime in September 2010