The monotonous subway ride to work. It a daily drill. On each subway platform, there are three arrows grouped together, two outer arrows pointing in and the center arrow pointing out, indicating where each door opens. When I hear the bell ring for the arriving train, I take my place directly in front of the middle arrow pointing out, waiting for the vortex of people to 
swirl around me. Odd; I know I should wait patiently to either side of the two outer arrows pointing in, but I do not. If I'm lucky, I get a seat.

  One morning, I entered the train with great speed and precision. Thus it was possible to procure a seat. As I adjusted comfortably into my seat, many more people streamed into the train. Normally, it is quite easy to spot the traveling talkers. The salespeople with their large bags full of 1000 won priced merchandise. Any and every thing, from batteries to cheap, plastic binoculars. But that morning, I encountered a new kind of travelling talker. It was one I had never seen before in Korea.

  Suddenly, a middle aged woman's voice can be heard above the noise. "People, please hear me for a moment." I look to see what she's selling. She holds up what looks like pamphlets. She doesn't have a huge bag beside her. I lose what she's saying in the quick paced Korean and the drone of the subway. In between pieces of Korean, I hear "Jesus". More Korean, and then "Jesus". The dawn of comprehension. She's a preacher. A traveling preacher circuiting the circuitous green line of Seoul's underworld. Her message is of hope and love, of redemption. I watch her. I hear the determination and passion in her voice. She cannot be swayed by the vast indifference of the commuting crowd. Three old men dressed in hiking attire sitting in front of 
me, talking excitedly. A young, smartly dressed woman beside me putting finishing touches to her make-up. An office worker reading a newspaper. A student talking on his phone. A young woman with earphones, absorbed in music. A man sleeping, wearing the effects of the previous night's alcohol. All these people, and no one deems her and her message worthy of attention.

  Soon, the woman's voice is drowned out by the PA system announcing the next stop, and the sound of a twittering bird indicating a rotary. When you hear a bird twittering as if in a peaceful meadow, do not be fooled. This only indicates the relative peace of commuters exiting and entering at offbeat stations will be shattered by the hordes of hurried commuters waiting at the next stop.

  As those about me exit, and others enter, I lose sight of the preaching woman. After everyone has settled in and the train is on its way again, I hear the familiar cadence of the preaching woman's voice. "Jesus" can be heard above the grinding of subway's steel wheels rushing along the tracks. A new set of faces beside me, but amazingly it's the same reaction. Utter indifference to the woman's message of peace, love, and hope. All her words of redemption and sacrifice seem to fall on deaf ears.

  Soon after, the PA rudely interrupts the talking woman again. Passengers enter and leave. The woman's strong, resonant, and confident voice again calls out to the new set of passengers. All her words seem doomed to reverbrate the corridors of a train which might as well have been empty.

  Then, her words of Christian brotherhood are emphasized and beautified by the sound of gospel music. Did she also bring a boom box to highlight her sermon? I realize this is not so because the music is coming from the far end of the train. A man wearing rags emerges from the crowd, wearing sunglasses, carrying a cane in one hand, and in the other, a box full of 
coins and small bills. Over his shoulder, he carries a makeshift music maker. He walks carefully, lurching with the movement of the subway. A breed of subway beggar. Those who earn their living walking, limping, or crawling through subways.

  The woman's voice is quieted. She stands aside, her eyes gleaming and sparkling black, her hands clenching the pamphlets by her side. Her voice is shut out by the steel bars formed of her lips. The beggar continues to shuffle along his way. He is past her, moving towards another compartment. As the door clangs shut behind him, the woman's voice again arises with the 
oscillating O shape of her mouth, preaching a messages of love, sympathy, redemption, and compassion. All I hear are the words "Jesus" above the sounds of the subway.