Hi Boyoung,

How have you been since the typhoon?

I'm writing to you from the school library on a Saturday. It's my first time going to the library on a weekend. After staring at the fire lit under my feet for an eternity—this is fine—I finally put on my shoes and went outside. Ah, what a warm day.

It’s still the middle of August. It was boiling hot in the city this time last year, but today, on my way to school, it felt just like harvest festival weather for Chuseok. Was that because it got colder suddenly? Or is it that I ate kimchi jjigae for the first time in a while? Even the trash pile I just walked past reminds me of Chuseok. Before I came over to the States, I spent the Chuseok holiday break at school for five years in a row. And during each break, trash would always pile up on campus. The trash tossers were still around, but no one was there to pick it up.

Not long after I heard your Ulsan rat story, I received a mailer announcing that the City of New York was aggressively hiring rat catchers. There were too many rats, and the city wanted people to help “take care of” them. The hourly pay was competitive, so I was briefly tempted to apply. I asked my friend, “I’m not scared of rats—should I apply?” My friend was shocked. “That’s because you’ve only looked at rats. Do you really think you could ‘take care of’ one?” Well, I guess “taking care of” something like that is scary.

Boyoung, while reading your letter, I thought about some familiar places. The first one that came to mind was a study cafe. I spent a ton of time there the year before I left for New York. The study cafe I frequented was near Hyehwa station, and it was so lovely. When I wanted to find new writing, I would go to my favorite poetry bookshop just five minutes from there. But when I needed to grapple with my own writing, I would go to the study cafe. I drank so much coffee from the machine there. I wonder if any filmmakers worked at that study cafe too. The people there were working on all kinds of things. Late one winter night, I had dozed off at my desk when a hard crunching sound next to me jerked me awake. Someone was chewing on… ice. I couldn’t see their face or what they were drinking, but I thought, dang, that person must run hot like a fire.

I don’t know if I run hot like that, but there’s a decent amount of fire in my birth chart. Earth is my most dominant element, but I also have some fire. I’ve heard that people with a lot of earth and fire in their charts are considered stubborn. The other day, I drew on this trait to finally make it to an outdoor swimming pool. I haven’t been feeling well lately, so I haven’t gone swimming in quite a while. But then I considered that the weather would only get colder, so I knew I was running out of time. There’s an indoor pool that takes a while to get to by subway and an outdoor one closer to me. The outdoor pool is surrounded by large trees, and leaves fall onto the water’s surface when the wind blows. Sometimes, I stop in the middle of a lap to catch my breath and take in the leaves. I really want to go back there.

There are moments when I still can’t believe I’m here in New York City, Boyoung. I can’t believe it, but here I am! Cooking food, making friends, even going out to dance now and then. I’m equal parts shy and fiery—so while I don’t dare dance anywhere I don’t feel at home—when I’m with someone I like, I could even dance around the pole on a subway car for them. Now that I think about it, we went dancing the last time you were here. I was too distracted by my lustful endeavors then, but let’s go dancing again when I’m back in South Korea. And make some cabbage stir fry for me too, please. I’ll bring the drinks. We can even put on music at your place and dance around. Or would Mango and Yuzu hate that? If you’re in another country by then, I’ll visit you there.

In Manhattan, a here that had never existed before, what I imagine for myself these days remains resolute—I want to be able to read good writing for a long time. I’ve been thinking about this for a few years now. I used to think “good writing” was “writing by my friends,” and then it meant “writing by good people who don’t necessarily have to be my friends.” Now, good writing just means good writing. And “for a long time” was a recent addition. I’m becoming more resilient here in New York. While this place has its own challenges and issues, it’s still Korea that feels suffocatingly close. It’s just easier to breathe and relax here. I want to cool off my body and build up my strength—I want to keep swimming.

Boyoung, I hope we can publish a book together one day. I’ll translate it, and you can design it. I’ve come across so much good writing here. I’m still figuring out what I’d like to translate, but if we just keep at it, maybe we’ll be holding a new book in our hands before we know it.

I miss you, Boyoung—let’s talk on the phone soon.

Yours,Ju Ly