Urban sketch #3

On today’s walk I go further than ever before: all the way to the Sky Park and the Sunset Park, two wonders of urban development right next to the neighborhood I live in since March. The Parks were formerly the world’s largest mound of municipal waste, spreading an unbearable stench and belching forth methane, which gave it the infernal qualities rendering the surrounding residential area rather unappealing. All this changed when, simultaneously with the World Cup, the city reconstructed the entire site and inaugurated the Parks, boasting incredible biodiversity (butterflies, grasses, sedges).
I am fasting today. The walk through the parks, that are separated by Seoul’s ubiquitous concrete veins but connected by pedestrian bridges, refreshes my soul. A different location, a different self. I walk on wooden steps and gaze at the big orange ball that is our sun; I walk on a platform that leads through high vegetation where the fireflies hide; I walk through a tunnel with industrial lights and large spiders: Nephila clavata had spun webs in front of almost every floodlight and the webs were full of insect cadavers suspended sullenly in the harsh light. I look at the venomous spiders and smile. Now I know where you live, my little friend. I’ll come visit you in your tunnel again one day.

Urban sketch #3 was originally published on Meandering home

July 12. The human predicament.

This day is intentionally left out. Writing this some weeks later, I can hardly remember what I did. I guess I hung out with my new friends in Seoul. Played pool on the 28th floor of an apartment building overlooking greater Seoul and the surrounding mountains we hiked a few days ago. Watching movies and sleeping on soft pillows. Probably.
Consider yet another depiction of the human predicament:
“You are not alone” he tells her with a deep, hissing voice in an attempt to console her. He leans over her and tries to kiss her forehead. He feels her sweat on his lips, it tastes like warm butter. She moves her head away. “Don’t. Don’t lie to me.” He takes a napkin and wipes her forehead. “I’m not lying to you, I’m here, look!” He takes off his sweater and shirt and then takes her hand, slowly moving it towards his breast. “It’s my heart, do you feel it?” She nods dimly, like a schoolgirl that has asked a silly question. “I feel it. You are here.” He sighs. “Do you understand now? You are not alone!” he says, rising his voice a little bit. “But I still feel alone” she whispers. “Please don’t. Don’t let me down!” he yells to her and then he takes of his pants. A painful smile lingers on the girls lips. He enters her body. Five minutes later it’s over. He throws away the condom and makes himself a cup of coffee to stay awake. When he comes back, he sits next to her and caresses her cheek. “You are not alone” his voice is singing now he feels, he is the little hummingbird courting her, she is the purpose of his life, the enigma of first and last and infinite love. His hands is striking her hair and he keeps repeating his words. “I know” she replies because she knows how much he needs her.

July 12. The human predicament. was originally published on Meandering home