To: Ju Ly
Ju Ly, I liked hearing you say cleaning is like praying. On the weekends, my friends and I sometimes gather at the house of whoever has the most space. When everyone is asleep or out, I sometimes like to sweep and clean the rooms. I really enjoy those moments. The burnt pieces of onion crusted on the gas stove, the towels left unfolded, the letters taped onto the shelves, the bags that dangle from door handles—the damp exhaustion of home maintenance, the surges of willpower to clean anyway—do you see what I mean? Emptying out the food waste in the kitchen sink. Fluffing up and rearranging the sofa cushions. While cleaning, I sometimes get glimpses of my friend bustling about their day in the space—falling asleep, cooking, washing, reading the same letters. I feel both glad and lonesome. Even when I leave the empty house, I keep on turning back to see if there’s anything else I can lend a hand to. I didn’t know it then, but maybe my cleaning was a kind of praying. To say, you’re doing great. You’ve got this. I love you.
I thought about you cleaning your friend’s house. I picture the scene from the perspective of the items in the desk drawers. Your face is blurry as you peer in. While we can’t share the time that’s already passed, I can at least try to be next to you like this.
It’s already mid-September, and it’s still sunny here in Seoul. The humid energy of summer lingers in the air. I usually feel a touch better when fall arrives. First, I like longing for the warmth when the cold winds arrive. I want to gather my friends around a pot of soup and watch the broth bubble and steam. I also get the urge to tug at the coat of the person walking next to me. Even when you’re not completely warm, I like the feeling of being warm enough. When you walk around the gray city while telling yourself, It’s cold, It’s cold, I like how your solitude comes into sharp focus. Sometimes when waking from a nap, as your body slowly and softly regains sensation, you get seized by the feeling of missing something you’ve lost forever. Fall is redolent of both sweetness and loss like this, and I’m eagerly awaiting fall.
Ju Ly, I’m sorry. I got distracted, and I’m picking back up where I left off my writing a few days ago. We had torrential rains for the past four days, and then just overnight, a cool, dry air began to blow. It’s rained a lot since the end of August, and the weather has been uncharacteristically hot and humid until now. The torrential rain signaled the first true rain of the new season. With our faith in weather tested, it was cute to see everyone caught off guard when fall finally arrived. I’m already sorry to think about the dry wind leaving soon—I don’t want to put on a jacket, even to cover the goosebumps on my arms.
I’m going to Sokcho tomorrow for a late vacation. Sometimes, I return from summer vacation having only sweated a bunch. This time, I’ve been waiting patiently with the hope of enjoying fall to the fullest. The room I reserved is like a birdhouse and empty except for a bed, and out the window you can see the sea. To comfort my sticky desire all summer long, I gaze longingly at the photo of this room empty except for a bed. I guess I’ll be there soon. I’ll send you a photo from Sokcho.
The last time I visited the East Sea was eight years ago. Then, my friends and I naively thought the weather would be warm in May, so we made a reckless plan to stay up the whole night on the beach at Gangneung. We took the night bus and arrived at the beach. At first, like branches growing in different directions, we set off on our own to different sections of the beach. The crashing waves were tall and wide. They were so large that I worried that one friend who had walked right up to the waves might get swept away. After being scattered for a while, after midnight, we gathered close. We huddled in a circle like sorcerers preparing an incantation—in reality, we were trying to survive the cold. We sat with our knees touching and shared stories, and more stories, saying what we wanted to say, hearing what we wanted to hear—why did we have so much to say and hear? Over the long long night, we had gathered in a sorcery huddle like kids playing make-believe, then dispersed… when the sun rose, we sat in a row to enjoy the view. The low clouds glowed deep blue. The choppy waves from the previous night rolled gently in orange, yellow, and green hues.
And then we sat crouched outside a soft tofu stew restaurant and waited for it to open. We had sand tangled in our hair, sand in our ears and nostrils. We smiled and chattered senselessly with our blue lips. Actually, it would have been nicer if we had found accommodations, but at the time, we had barely scraped together enough money for the bus tickets alone. After the warm breakfast, our bodies softened, and as soon as we sat on the return bus, we all experienced the magic of arriving in Seoul after what seemed like only 5 seconds. A most hilarious and pathetic memory from a time in my life I remember just as fondly.
Now and then, I picture us huddled together in a circle on the beach, like a scene from a movie. If I zoom out far, we look like stars in the night sky. I don’t really remember the stories we shared on the sand dunes as dawn approached. We probably talked about the things that were the most dear to us then, like how you might read about similar things when you look through your journal entries from childhood. And those things are probably still dear to us now. I find comfort in such thoughts.
Ju Ly, I’ve been so focused on the day-to-day that I’ve been living as if I had forgotten what happened in my past. I focused only on the things required of me while telling myself that what I felt was comfort and ease. But exchanging letters with you, Ju Ly, I felt like we were chatting in front of a glowing fireplace. Our letters made me think about old memories that I had pushed away into a far corner of my mind. They gave me a lot of courage. Thank you so much. What am I supposed to do now that I’m even more curious about what you’re up to? Maybe I’ll hold the wings of the bird mobile in my hands and channel The Whispering Gallery to tell you how I feel.
Ju Lyyyyy, I hope my telepathy reaches you.
Your friend,
Kyeonghwa
