The local / Kim Yideum
It is so beautiful here,
Two people who ride around the lake on a rented bike approach him.
He is an easy person to ask for directions. He knows the paths leading away from the lake. He knows the four seasons of the surrounding forest.
You can always spot him somewhere.
He does not pay attention to his face reflected in the water. He does not write on the water, and he does not watch underwater creatures. He does not know the taste of undulating water.
Sometimes he strolls around the lake.
Even though he is a Bob Marley fanatic, he regrets the days when he traveled to Jamaica. He likes to stack more regrets than do with paper cups.
Friends ask questions while sipping their coffee. Why don't you leave? There's no reason to live by the lake anymore, right? He is silent as to why he failed in business as trees are silent to birds.
He used to love the birds that stayed only for a season. Whenever birds fell in love with a tree, they would perch with their wings folded, making it difficult to show the beauty of the whole body. They left even though the cold weather didn’t get worse, and there was no shortage of food either. Since the tree knew the birds always flew away, it only kept as many branches as the number of birds it welcomed home.
He is an easy person to ask for directions. Without making any plan, he stays in the woods which makes a lingering murmur. He is startled every time someone approaches him. Whenever anyone asks about a local restaurant, an accommodation, or a government office, he opens a map like a stranger does.
The woodland and the lake are close by. They project into each other but do not interfere. Occasionally, dead tree branches float on the water. Natural and yet opaque, you would stand by his side but keep your boundaries like your skin would.
He stands alone on the shore of the lake long after tourists go to the lake by boat in the afternoon, or even during the off-season. He loves the lake but doesn't touch the water. Like an infected person without symptoms, he is not aware of the critical condition of his.
He knows nine paths leading away from the lake. He knows the four seasons of the thickets. People part ways and go home in the evening with a faint sense of relief. He drags his heavy feet headed to a very dark forest with a heart that is neither depressed nor angry.
- translated by Choi Jae Jun