KAFKA ON THE SHORE.

tuesday december 18, 2018 - the story of jonghyun.

(because i'm tired of being sad, and that's not what he'd want, this is what happens when you listen to each of his albums. )

BASE: Everything is ocean blue inside your room and only sometimes does the fuzzy neon of the city break through. You live for the intensity of it. At first it was only the drawers, but now it's in the wardrobe, the stove, all over the floor. Another reality awaits you just past the mirror, yet you walk away everytime. How long until it fills up everything? The white Moon blinks disapprovingly, but she's an old friend already. You watch the ocean dripping out of your lonely tower and think you should go visit the beach one day.

The Story Pt.1: Coming back home is your favourite part. No matter how difficult or exhausting a day was, the walk in the silent night always makes your feet float. The thoughts flow through your head easy as a river — the good ones, the bad ones, you forgive them all. Would your sister still be awake to say good night? The Moon is a rip in the sky that reveals what's just beyond what we can see. You know the secret now, so you smile. At 02:34, everything turns transparent.

She Is: The first moment you touch her, everything bleeds pink. You could have never prepared for this. The galaxy in her eyes grow around you and swallows you whole; you have no chance but to offer your body to fuel the grand cosmic explosion. Your fingertips turning into stardust turning into supernova turning into a thousand Moons. This is where you were always meant to be, and you try to forget it will end soon.

The Story Pt.2: Family gatherings are always the worst. Your reflection in the mirror shouts at you, but you're so tired that you just rub your eyes at it. Thinking back to her smile on the pillow this morning and the sheets licking your skin and if only, if only she could've come with you... It's funny how love survives longer than time within heart. You hug your mom for the first time in a while, no reason. The Moon left a little early tonight, but the fireplace will keep you warm.

Poet I Artist: At breakfast, each egg that you crack is already hard-boiled — but you wanted to have them scrambled. The orange juice is dripping off the table and you catch it with your tongue. All the people in the street are grey and make you dizzy. 'Where do I go now?' you ask in Japanese to the black mini Dachshund; 'To exactly where you came from', she replies in German. When you turn, the hot desert sand scrapes at your face. Looking up at the Moon, it shines red and green, cross-eyed at you. Inside of your chest, every emotion you've ever felt is clear and settled. You take the hardest breath of your life, and then. Then... then... then...

( i hope that one day the meeting you speak of will finally happen, and until that day, i will do my best. i love you, you did so well. thank you for being my pride, hope and inspiration all these years.
"as always, i need you." )