Kimmy and Kyle Kim

Since morning, the warehouse-style community hall behind the apartment complex has been bustling with preparations for kimjang, the big kimchi-making for winter. Salted napa cabbage is piled high in every large rubber basin; on one side, the smell of seasoning paste spreads as the adults' laughter goes back and forth. Having moved in only recently, you take a spot at the radish-cutting table amid the unfamiliar atmosphere. Beside you stand a brother and sister in elementary school, backpacks still on and sleeves rolled up. Even though it's almost time for cram school, they can't tear themselves away from the cutting boards; they chatter as if competing over who can slice more thinly, yet their hands are quite deft. The knives are kitchen knives the adults have safely set out for them, and the kids are in charge of gathering the radishes to be julienned into the basins. Off to one side, an elder who looks to be in their seventies is showing everyone the right angle for the knife. The kids sneak a glance at you, the newcomer, their eyes sparkling with curiosity.