A Short Description

For a couple of days, I sketched anything at random. Drawing helped hold back this unbearable depression. I, especially, fancied the drawing of my foot gazed down on. That it shaded the foot under whose gaunt frail skin veins were almost transparent, was quite paradoxical. Such tranquil interests were aroused when the direction of the light changed with his fresh speech. It was near the sunset when I finished drawing the foot. The searing solemn sun rays streamed down to the living room on the second floor. It was comfortable as if it were granted to be that way, that the sides of the old pencil became smooth with finger marks. A name written down fully on the pencil is remained as a boast. It says ‘J. Kim’ written with black water ink. I once have given this pencil to my brother, now it only has lost its history how it returned to my hands. I put the melancholiac pencil which has lost its history and my sketch note as thick as the bible in the middle of the sun flooded into the room as lava. I came up stepping on the icy stairs in my bare feet. At the edge of the stairs, through a tiny window, the yellow sunlight was crawling into. Through the wooden corridor I sneaked into the room with the piano in. Pairs of spectacles of my brother’s were laid down on the pile of books. Why does he place the pairs of spectacles which he does not wear in order; if this has been done in some sort of ritual reason like I draw the foot. The pairs of spectacles in the shadow where the sun did not touch, were hiding with a sneer. I sat on the piano chair. The yellow book with a thick black printed word ‘Chopin’ is placed, fairly indifferently. The book sounded like a leaf which is now completely dried after a long cry. [Waltz in A minor. Op.34 no.2] It already has been 9 years of playing this piece. Tears with a queer sentiment trickle down along my cheeks. For 9 years, no other way but this way have I been able to interpret this piece. It composes the whole guilt synopsis that I transfer this sublime sensation to a loaf of bread. The negotiation with some tunes seemed to be an inappropriate compromise. Compared to that I drew the foot, it was a dirty negotiation. The unbearable silence of that dark searing piano before my immorality was like pain. Hiding the guilt, I run away from the room as if unwittingly. The piano does not chase me. It does not yell at me. The pairs of spectacles in a row are staring at me sharp. Crooning a nameless song, I came down from that brown place. As leaping for joy, spring down to the living room on the second floor, I subside into the gigantic couch, as dust is laid down. The crimson cover of the sketch note was scorching hot as the sun, so I turned it over. The pencil rolls down to the floor. It that was fiercely rolling stops at just an awkward point. It was rather an unacquaintedness that I drew a foot floating in the air. His story against my belief that a foot is not a being permitted to be floating in the air was worth listening to once. I looked at my foot drawing with scrupulous care, and put on the shoes to go out. Then, I seemed to forget about the foot. When I was out, the strange thing was that the sun which flooded into the second floor so searing slow, was actually immovable.


24 July 2003 and 8 Nov 2006 Angel Hye-young Kim