A single house in the northern hills, and a page written before the visit rather than after it.
Written as an intention, not a memory. I have not made this day yet.
Everything on this page is preparation. I have not been to Seoul, and a city page written from a distance owes the reader that sentence before it offers a single opinion.
What I do know is the shape of the problem: one collection, up in the northern hills, that opens rarely and briefly. Houses like this are not planned around; they are waited for. The dates come out when they come out, and the flight is booked after them, not before.
So the intention is May, a light diary, and a morning kept free at short notice. If Seoul turns out to hold more than one entry — and I expect it does — those will be added when I have stood in them, in the usual way.