LALATOWN LIFE

I love going grocery shopping.

Why?

Because I learned—only after becoming an adult—

that it is a quiet privilege.

Standing in one corner,

choosing garlic,

choosing onions,

comparing prices,

looking for what’s fresh, what’s on sale—

and somehow,

the menu for the week gently changes

based on what I find.

I buy more than I planned.

I stand too long in front of the ice cream section,

doing nothing in particular.

And one day, I realized—

this kind of moment only exists

when everything around you is at peace.

It took me a long time to understand that.

---

I used to think grocery shopping was just a duty.

Something you had to do to survive.

But after becoming an adult,

after caring for my parents

and eventually letting them go,

I began to see it differently.

Going to the market,

walking through a grocery store—

I realized how quietly happy those moments were.

And I didn’t want to forget that feeling.

---

So when I started painting,

I wanted to give them—

these everyday things—

their own titles.

To garlic: Dear My Garlic

To onions: You Don’t Make Me Cry No More

Cilantro, often overlooked,

became the star of a scarf design.

And napa cabbage—

held like a bouquet,

wrapped in something like a hanbok jeogori—

embracing radish and pear like a bundle of flowers.

These weren’t just drawn for humor.

They were

my way of honoring them.

---

The quiet act of buying a cabbage,

a bundle of radish—

and making kimchi from them,

that time,

that space,

that ordinary rhythm—

that was a privilege.

One I had once lost.

---

And now,

I am preparing to build a life again

in a place

where that can be my everyday.

Because I know

what it feels like when that ordinary life collapses.

Because I know

how precious it is.

---

So I painted strawberries

as something blooming—

like a lotus.

I called it Love of Berry.

And somehow,

it became one of the most loved pieces.

Lemons, too—

bright, fresh, sliced into water or tea—

that small moment of ease in the morning.

I realized

that kind of peace

was never about money.

It was something you could only recognize

when you had the space to feel it.

---

And so,

I became a little obsessed with grocery shopping.

Not even with cooking—

but with the act itself.

The perfectly arranged lemons,

the endless rows of yellow and green—

they made my eyes happy.

They made my heart feel full.

---

And my grocery list kept growing.

Peppers became

Pepper, I’ll Burn for You.

Olives became

Olive you always.

Cilantro became

Señorita Coriandra,

dressed in a scarf, finally seen.

---

These paintings—

they are not just drawings.

They are

my apology

and my quiet celebration

of the things I once overlooked.

---