The Season That Only Showed Its Face Briefly
đ Why Do Humans Live in Untouchable Weather?_Choi Hyun-woo
Around last year, a bookstore called Choi In-a Books opened in the company lobby.
Due to remote work that continued since last summer, I only ever passed by the bookstore while going to and from the company building for occasional visits.
Starting in April, my pastel drawing class resumed, so I go to the office once a week. Naturally, I started dropping by the bookstore to clear my head during work breaks. Since the book curation is so beautifully done, like a sparrow finding a mill, I end up buying one or two books every Tuesday.
I like poetry collections because they can be read over a long time and always feel new. Often, I buy them simply because Iâm drawn to the title. Especially the
When I was deeply captivated by a sad green, I picked up a poetry collection, <Why Do Humans Live in Untouchable Weather?>. I brought home Choi Hyun-wooâs poetry collection, with its deeply melancholic green color and equally melancholic title.
I love reading the poetâs notes. It feels like getting a little closer to the poet, and even these notes feel like poetry.
đ My Favorite Lines of Poetry
They said they write to disappear, and not to disappear. To be beautiful, to be ugly, to grow in freedom and the failure of freedom, to die, to be nothing. Into the inside of humanity, to the outside, holding a handful of sand in one hand, and the entire universe in the other, walking straight ahead, they said.
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I bought flowers, but they got damaged on the last bus I hastily boarded. I couldnât bring myself to throw them away. I hid them behind my back and came home, and there was someone who smiled brightly, asking where I got such a pretty bouquet. Looking at that face, I wanted to stay still for a very long time. I couldnât.
<Four OâClock in the Afternoon>
One day a day will come when the heart dies first just as there is a heart created by the bodyâs illusion today, four oâclock in the afternoon passes again
It feels like something was lost, yet it swells and my tongue stings, and the feeling of having something to say and the feeling of having words I canât say share the same pain, we washed white clothes and black clothes together, the broken umbrella soaked my left side so I held it with my left hand and my right side got wet too, I put sugar instead of salt in the pot, I took the bus in the wrong direction, today I picked up the phone and put it down again, and the days you and I pick up and overturn will always be at odds, whose palate does the sky resemble, constantly opening and closing as we melt and eat the never-disappearing moon every day, can we keep growing even without each other, the midday carried like a candy, who takes back the feeling of having eaten and spit out just enough after a meal, why did we enter somewhere and come out spicy and sweet, then disappear?
To tame myself I wasted my heart
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There is no one from the beginning
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You were not you and I was not I
The weather was very loose The season that only showed its face early I decided to understand it merely as the fault of the flowers I brought home the dead petals from that day in a glass bottle
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Adding body temperature wouldnât make one person hotter than two even illusions have an inner skin sometimes I smiled well without trembling
Commentary_Seonwoo Eun-sil (Literary Critic)
If believing, being frustrated, and yet believing again is the continuity of life and all there is to it, then at some point one will surely face a time when they are exhausted and fed up with the process, wanting to abandon everything regardless of the outcome. There are no relationships without frustration, and if the only difference is the time or attitude needed to bravely decide to believe in something again at different stages of life, then people seem to expect the courage to suffer deeply and quickly try to trust someone again from the image of âyouthâ.
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If poetry is to reveal the human inner self, then it projects not only oneâs aspirations but also oneâs vulnerable and despairing aspects. The key is how transparently one reveals the âvulnerable selfâ within them.
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