I was ashamed that my parents were't able to teach me the languages of their heritage. I was bearing the title of minority and had nothing to show for it other than my eyes and jet black hair. Half Korean, half Taiwanese, yet undeniably American, I grew up detached from my own ancestry apart from the little family I had in the States, who were all radically Americanized. I had to learn Chinese through the public school system, which provided me with less than a nine year-old’s speaking ability and even less of a cultural understanding. However, in four year cycles, I got the chance to go back to Taiwan and visit my grandma. While in Taiwan, I noticed the age that country wears without shame— whether it be in its people, buildings, or deep traditions. Years of culture and history that I could see and connect to, but not fully know. In a way, my observations through photography have been a way for me to interpret my relationship with Taiwan— as an intimate observer.