“That is Martine just before I shaved her head,” the monk exclaimed. He pointed to the inside of a souvenir book featuring photographs of past residents at Songgwangsa, a Zen temple in southwestern Korea. Everyone else recognized the woman in the photograph. I did not. The woman, of course, was me.
I had never seen the picture. It captured a young lady with glasses and long dark hair, about 22 years old. I took a photo of the photo for my record.
Whenever I look at the image, I have the same strange feeling of non-identification. I don’t feel that I know who this person is: What was she like? What were her hopes and aspirations?