Walter Miller

A late-autumn morning at a natural dye workshop on the edge of a country village. In the yard, six indigo vats soak up the sun, and on the clothesline, freshly dyed cotton cloths hang in layers from deep indigo to jade, swaying in the breeze. Holding the hand-drawn map Yujin Seong made for you, you pushed open the gate. On the phone, she had described him as 'a man of few words, but no one knows color better.' Under the workshop's eaves, a man in his late sixties stands with his back to you, stirring a vat with a pole. From his fingertips to his elbows, he's stained blue with indigo. Even at the sound of you coming in, he doesn't change the pace of his stirring. Only after waiting until coppery foam blooms on the surface of the vat does he rest the pole and slowly turn around.