Dearly beloved July,
Last winter we met by the beach and spoke of an outside of our own. At the time I said I needed my own exterior. Nini at home and the new world outside pulled me in opposite directions. My initial intention in exchanging letters with you, July, was to find out why I wanted to go outside when I had Nini in me. I fell into the trap you slyly wove out of Lucky Charms and ended up saying a bunch of stuff about animals as usual.
It’s probably because I can’t talk about myself without talking about animals. Even at home-home, with Nini’s warmest body by my side, I get the chills down my spine watching ghosts of animals stream in from the outside and hearing their stories of horror. My family’s table is invariably laden with dead animals. It’s a bliss watching Nini sleep soundly, but I also blame myself hearing the sound of his breathing get rougher with age. My flat-nosed or brachycephalic doggo descends from a breed of dogs whose body structure makes breathing difficult, the result of selfishness on the part of humans who found such an appearance appealing. Once noticed, these things don’t disappear but haunt my eyes. Merely loving Nini has sensitized me to the fate of other animals, disappearing forests, and those who have lost their homes. I don’t know if I’ll be able to find a place where I can feel completely at ease.
Even if the world ends before then, I’d like to spend my last moments of life loving tirelessly. In the movie Don’t Look Up (2021), the protagonists spend their last day on earth with their loved ones before it collides with a giant meteor. Learning that a meteor is coming their way that can annihilate all life on earth, they look the crisis in the face and try to alert the world. Not content to sit on their hands, this band of people try their best to confront the crisis, after which they gather in a house for dinner. Sipping wine at a table overflowing with love and friendship, someone says, “I’m grateful we tried.” I saw in this wonderful scene an end I’d like to reach, a we I’d like to meet.
It turns out I easily get lonely. I realized this, frozen before the death of animals, haunted by their ghosts. I grew lonely whenever I felt like an oddball, haunted by what most take for granted, what they deem unimportant, or what they’re simply too busy to care about. So thank you for asking how I was doing. Thank you for stopping by my side, facing the mold. You gave me a voice to speak about the deaths you called “a little-known disaster.” I feared I wasn’t doing justice to their unfathomable suffering, their deaths without number. But I took heart at what you said: that though you don’t see ghosts you sometimes hear my voice. My heart races at the thought that our letters will become a voice that touches another being out there. The look on my face right now is that of a person in love.
July. You once asked whether you could be my precious outside. If Nini taught me to regard the lives of animals as my business, you taught me to care about the lives of women and workers. Did you know this? A few years ago, you stood by me as I gawked at the many women who started raising their angry voices out on the streets. I had no clue why they were so upset, and you unraveled stories of women I didn’t know about, one by one. I became absorbed in the stories I was actually vaguely familiar with but didn’t realize would involve me too. July, you taught me how to raise my voice for the stories I want to protect. I used to hate public speaking, but you emboldened me to go out willingly into the streets and lift high my timorous and tremulous voice.
The more I venture outside, the more beings I fall in love with, and the more stories I want to protect. I cultivated an affection for the connective world that facilitates friendship between strangers. But they say the crisis is coming upon us at meteor speed. I fear the world will fall apart any second now, and I feel helpless. Even if all I can do is stand still looking up at the sky, however, I’ll take heart from having a friend by my side. From our friendship, solidarity, love, and the strength that will take us to the end. These favorite words of mine will help me imagine a story where perhaps we don’t die but live, where we survive the crisis.
I have a good luck charm that I always carry in my purse. It’s the picture you drew me after I told you that, whenever I’m at my lowest, exhausted heart and soul by my life in Seoul, Nini appears in my dreams and spends the most ordinary days with me. The dreamy drawing shows me going somewhere on a bus, with Nini on my lap. I feel I can go anywhere, holding Nini in my bosom like a charm. I belatedly repay your kindness with my recipe for mushroom hot pot, which—albeit not colorful—beats the cold wind.
With love,
Jinhwa
Recipe for Mushroom Hot Pot
2 servings – Prepare more vegetables and broth for more people. Solitary diners can enjoy two portions or work with less ingredients.
Ingredients:
