kairosclerosis

let's walk each other home little soul, please don't let go this unknown is ours to roam our little souls will walk us home

[hsjiseong]

『 the song of night sung by streets 』

@hsjihan

the radio is tuned into some local broadcast. catching it just before they play a song. and as the music takes up the entire room, jiseong is swept by the yearning woven into the message, drawn in by the lovely voice. and suddenly he’s wide awake, trying to catch the singer and the title of the song.

and for the next few days, the song loops. constantly drawn back to it until jiseong is able to hum it under his breath.

he’s not much of a writer. it’s not what he’s good at. but this warrants a thank you at the very least, he decides.

hello, this is my first time writing something like this so forgive me if i didn’t start it right.

the other day you were playing map of dreams by kim sawol. i loved it so much i’ve been putting it on repeat! silly i know but her voice is so clear it pierced something in me. so thank you for introducing it on your show.

but it also brought up a lot of things for me. it’s shameful to say but at 25, i still haven’t experienced the kind of love songs depict. i’ve been in relationships but they just haven’t brought about the kind of yearning she illustrates.

i guess i was just wondering if there are others like me. or like maybe i have experienced it but just didn’t know that i have? i just... has someone out there felt the way about a person the way the song describes? and if so what is it like? or how do you know that this is it?

from: trying to find the road that no maps can mark

jiseong doesn’t even know if the radio show host will receive it but sends it anyway.

[toymp3]

Visit Original Link

Moonlight Bloom // AOORA

[hsjiseong]

『 whenever you’re ready 』

@daewonhs

in biology, jiseong learned that the human body was made of seventy percent water. in a class he dozed off in, he was told that the earth’s surface was covered by seventy percent water. in darkrooms, he prepared gallons and gallons of non-hardening fixers with seventy percent water.

water is just one of those things that is constantly there.

captivated jiseong as a little kid in the tub as he splashed around and wound up his favorite little boat. watched it speed across the length of it before a puttering stop. trying to catch the ripples it left behind but they would disappear once his hand came in contact with the surface.

or the jacuzzi bubbles that would elicit a giggle from young jiseong, trying to twist out of the stream that tickled him. or swimming on those frightfully hot days where he would hold his breath and try to appreciate the world underwater — only to lose quickly when his dad did the same and made faces. the large pockets of air that would rise to the surface as jiseong laughed.

mesmerized jiseong. tried to capture it in photographs — the way the lazy ocean hugs the shore — but unable to ever bring it any justice and spend hours with toes dug into sand, trying petrify the peace of rolling waves. witnessed the way it influenced others. aunt’s work with an ocean motif twelve summers ago — the exhibit that introduced her to her wife.

and here, before him, is that same jeju water that made up his summers. a seemingly insignificant backdrop but as the waves return and wash over jiseong’s feet, he realizes, like water, there are too many things in life he has taken for granted.

( maybe he should call his aunt. it’s been far too long.  maybe he should finally agree to attend that high school reunion.  maybe... )

jiseong turns around, about to head back, when he spots a familiar figure.

and like the waves lapping at his ankles, the memories come rushing in.

2am drunken confessions where you bare your soul and someone accepts you in that raw form. where you don’t have to pretend and say or do the right things to have friends. where you learn that it is more than okay to be yourself. that your options aren’t limited. hell, the world is yours to have if you are willing to take it. where you learn what hangovers mean and practice until you can outdrink your collegemates easily in two years time.

it’s someone you haven’t thought about in a while but couldn’t be happier to see.

jiseong makes his way towards the man appreciating the sprawl of ocean before him, knowing full well he’s probably obstructing the view. when he knows he can be heard, he recites from the final episode of the good place:

“picture a wave. in the ocean. you can see it, measure it, its height, the way the sunlight refracts when it passes through. and it's there. and you can see it, you know what it is. it's a wave.”

jiseong smiles as he drops down next to the man, staring straight ahead at the way the sky meets the water.

“and then it crashes in the shore and it's gone. but the water is still there.” jiseong turns to hold his gaze. “the wave was just a different way for the water to be, for a little while.”

“it sounds sad, doesn’t it?” jiseong continues, drawing his knees to his chest, propping his chin on top. “but its how sand is made and sea glass. the efforts of infinite waves. doesn’t jeju remind of you that, daewon hyung?” jiseong asks in lieu of how have you been? or it’s nice to see you again. because it has been far too long since this name has rolled off his tongue. and there’s a connectedness and a sense of belonging he still can’t shake.

( and can only hope daewon feels the same. )

[hsjiseong]

@hscharoen

at his first response, charoen thinks maybe somewhere in her word spillage she had offended. but suddenly, he’s springing up and now he’s the one guiding her. into really seeing what she had failed to see the entire trek up sunrise peak — the sight behind her.

no matter the sights she has seen or the sights she’s bound to see, the blonde will have the same reaction: a few beats of awe and then her mouth parts just slightly. as if that extra bit of oxygen is necessary to comprehend the image. concluded with a smile, that sort of elation that’s on a level of its own.

“huh, you make a good point. guess i gotta remember to LITERALLY turn around sometimes to enjoy the view.” the same could be said for her life but she tries not to dwell on that.

as he steps back, she turns her smile towards him, oblivious to what sort of space strangers should have. probably why some of her neighbours in her homeland thought her odd, not completely adhering to all the customs. “hi, kang jiseong! my name’s rien charoen.” shaking his hand, she’s already onto her next thought, answering, “yeah, i miss taking pictures, i guess. i think i miss the appearance of having a camera, y’know? like, the polaroid camera i had was antique — probably why it broke so easily. oh! and waiting for the polaroid to develop. you gotta do a little flappy-flap and watch it appear before you like a MIRAGE.” and she’s rambling. must be the air.

reeling herself in, she adjusts the sunglasses perched on her nose and thumbs her knapsack strap. “so you do this for a living? must be really good. got a website i can look up or profile i can follow? i wanna see what else i’ve been missing all this time!”

the corner of jiseong’s lips curl into a smile as she follows his guidance, mouth parting in what he hopes is the same awe that thrums through his veins. some things never fail to leave one breathless. ( gaping caverns and tall heights offer a different type of excitement — the sort where all the cells of your body protest imminent death, spiking adrenaline, urging you to flee. ) landscapes that almost makes jiseong question the existence of a higher power. sceneries he wishes he can carry around with him for the rest of his life.

“isn’t that the point of a hike?” he jokes, “less destination, more journey or however that famous quote goes.”

jiseong is glad. glad she doesn’t find him odd. or too wary of him. seemingly happy to engage in a conversation so he relaxes. allows his camera to leave his hands and hang in front of his chest. repeating her name in his head so he doesn’t seem rude later on. he’s always been a better facial recognizer than a name recaller but that’s beside the point.

he laughs at the way she describes a polaroid, knowing too well that sense of magic that is so captivating about the development of photography. the days he spent in darkrooms, inhaling chemicals, bathed in a sole red light just to watch his pictures slowly develop.

“you would love processing photographic film then,” jiseong comments. “you know, the old cameras that have that roll in them you would send off to get washed. and they would come back in like a pack or envelope.”

he taps his chin. “but it would take much longer than a polaroid.” followed by a sigh: “too bad i don’t have one set up, otherwise i would invite you to see how it works.”

wait did he really just invite a stranger— no. new acquaintance to an imaginary darkroom? really doing well on the maximum creepiness level here.

“no i just...” jiseong rubs the nape of his neck out of habit, trying to cover up his blunder, “if i had a dark room. you seem like you would be interested in seeing the full process.” and nods to reaffirm: “yeah, i do this for a living. it’s why i get carried away. honestly not that impressive. just a dime a dozen yearning photographer.”

“i do have a professional portfolio. but the instagram is probably more honest,” he chuckles.

“what about you?” he leaves it open. hanging. swallowed up too much time by rambling about himself and curious about the girl before him. it feels imbalanced. and not everyone would be so courageous to just talk to another individual.

it means everything and nothing at all. her job, her dream, how deep is her love for photography? but all of that is too daunting. an open ended question is hopefully enough for him to find out more.

[quotemadness]

Sometimes it is the smallest thing that saves us: the weather growing cold, a child’s smile, and a cup of excellent coffee.

Jonathan Carroll (via quotemadness)

[hsjiseong]

『 arctic blues 』

there are moments in life you just can’t forget.

the first time your hands hold a camera between them, accompanied by the distinct sound of a shutter snapping shut. the first time you scoop snow into your bare hands, ignoring the way your skin turns bright red and stings for release. the first time you taste hot chocolate and understand why it’s so often depicted in those western films noona loves. the first time you stumble across a blog that connects all your dots in life — tying your love of photography and travel to purpose. the first time you witness reine during the hour where everything is swathed in blue: lights turned on and reflected upon the water, rooftops dusted by snow, the sort of picturesque scene often depicted on post cards.

these moments you hold onto, cherish them so that you will never forget.

@hsheeyeon​

jiseong listens to the soft tinkle of the bell overhead as he opens the door. habits die hard and he bows slightly as he steps through, but not before pausing to inhale a deep breath. it reminds him of cobblestone paths, dewy mornings, and bicycle rides. there was a bakery tucked in the corner, along the road where he lived, that was a staple of his study abroad experience. weekly changes in bread of the day for adventurous souls, the usual assortment for all the creatures of habit. the aroma of coffee mingling with that of bread as people pop in after their morning coffee runs. the croissants filled with chocolate that burst forth on his tongue without scalding him — unlike the sad excuse reheated ones are.

jiseong once read somewhere that smell, unlike the five senses, directly gets encoded into memory. and freshly baked bread hits him with a sense of nostalgia and longing that leaves him breathless.

he takes his time. winding through the selection, taking a long look at each one, before finally settling on three. and almost collides into one of the shop keepers who is trying to replenish the depleted stock of bread.

jiseong does a double take at the side profile of the woman restocking merchandise. he can’t be wrong. despite never meeting her in person, he knows deep down that he’s right. that this person before him is the one with words so powerful it shaped his connection to reine. unintentionally helped him find purpose in his life ( and thus his career ). the individual he pooled together all his photos for — both the good and the bad — in drives attached to long emails exchanged at random hours of the day.

( he’s stared at the profile picture on her travel blog for far too long. )

if this was some drama he might have dropped his tray of bread and all the patrons of the bakery would have paused at the clatter it made. except this isn’t a drama and that would be a terrible waste of bread.

so jiseong clutches the tray tight and says: “you’re heeyeon noona right?”

then realizing how creepy that might come across. “the travel blog,” jiseong tries again. but again without a start and a finish or any context, how can anyone ever understand him? “it’s me: kang jiseong. the kid who used to bug you all the time with emails.”

[hsjiseong]

『 check in ; check out 』

[hsjiseong]

@hsjihae​:

Today’s itinerary is short and sweet: seafood ramen for lunch, then a quick trip to the market on her way home.  She leaves the house with a fistful of color pencils and a scrappy little sketchbook in her bag, with enough room for whatever she’ll decide on buying later.   Packing light does wonders for long bike rides, she’s learned.  (And saves you from the humiliation of landing face-first into the sidewalk. In front of the kids from the kindergarten, too. She winces at the thought.)

Turns out she doesn’t have the stomach for an entire bowl of noodles, especially after a generous portion of juk hours before.  Hands patting absently at her uncomfortably bloated stomach, Jihae decides that an impromptu trek to the beach is in order. She ditches the bike at the racks up front and makes the trip on foot, now content and very, very full.

Clear skies and the full presence of the sun means that she’s not alone– it takes a good few minutes to find a secluded spot, but a lively crowd is perfect for a bit of sketching practice.  Her gaze wanders aimlessly, strokes loose and quick.  Soon, the blank page begins to fill– first, with a little girl and her oversized bucket hat, then an older man stooping beside his retriever.  The rest comes easily, from the young woman in the billowy sundress to the man hefting a nice looking camera.  Who is now staring oddly at her.

She stares back.  Then she starts- is he checking me out?? Not that there’s much to see, anyways.  An old t-shirt and running shorts don’t do much for her figure.  Still, there’s something about his gaze that seems a bit…off.  And now he’s walking towards her-

He’s walking towards her?! Jihae automatically reaches into the bottom of her tote for the rest of the color pencils, prepared to fend him off if it comes down to it.  He wouldn’t try anything funny in front of so children, would he?

He opens his mouth, and she’s stunned into silence.  Not that it lasts long, because she’s quick to retort- “Excuse me?”

Now Jiseong really regrets his choice of words. ( Fourth?? Really??? Why didn’t you start with the first three???? )

“It was meant to be in a joking manner!” Jiseong tries to defend himself and what’s left of his barely existing honor. “Because how can you be? Checking me out I mean,” Jiseong chuckles nervously. “I’d have to be dressed worthy enough for that and this mug of mine—” he fumbles, one hand dusting the sand he managed to get plastered to his pants. Ain’t that handsome dies in his mouth when he looks up.

He’s going about this all wrong. Curiosity did kill that cat. Just less of a murdered by someone and more of a can someone please open up a sink hole so Jiseong can disappear off the face of the Earth for eternity kind of way. Or better yet, maybe he should just run while screaming in embarrassment towards the ocean and let the waves wash away the shame as he sinks to the bottom of the merciless sea.

“I’m not hitting on you, I swear!” Jiseong raises both his hands to the sky, allowing his camera to dangle from the strap around his neck. “I’m just a photographer,” he says as if taking pictures of unassuming individuals enjoying their time at the beach was any less creepy.

Jiseong takes a healthy step back.

[hscharoen]

ACTION SHOT.

@hsjiseong​ — JEJU, somewhere in nature

guided tours? maybe one day. but that day is not today. it’s been a couple of years of being her own guide, namely travelling further south through thailand, a bit in south korea, and now she’s here.

jeju is beautiful, and she’s smiling not for the first time at the nature. a gentle wind caresses her shoulder, the sun warm on her face, and she has half a desire to take off her shoes and socks to feel the grass between her toes. that part’s not as wise considering her often need to climb the first cliff she spots in order to gain a better view of the land. blisters are NO friend to her.

her hands feel oddly empty when she spots yet another islander toting a camera of their own. their’s looks nice, expensive, advanced. certainly foreign to someone with her experience. the whole idea of taking pictures is to just point and shoot at will, with whatever sort of device she has.

despite herself, charoen finds herself approaching the man with the camera, lifting a (self) manicured brow. he’s positioned at such an angle that she can’t possibly imagine what he’s actually taking a picture of.

“i can’t figure out if you’re taking a picture of the wispy clouds or a ladybug i haven’t found yet,” she starts as way of introduction. a finger taps her chin. “i used to take pictures — polaroids. but i broke it, got too excited. they were feeding chipmunks at this reserve in thailand and i dropped my camera fumbling it. i DID get to feed a chipmunk, though!”

[hsjiseong]

it’s unlike jiseong to head towards a tourist trap. that’s a lie. it’s like jiseong to head to a tourist trap, wait until peak hours have waned, take a few photos, and then complain to any soul who gives a damn about how overrated the place was. look — he ain’t picky or stuck up. just a connoisseur of travel locations ( self proclaimed ).

but seongsan ilchulbong is nice. unesco world heritage sites are usually nightmares. waaaaay too many people ruining a world heritage under their brand name joggers and the utter inability to take a single decent shot. unless you like portraits. but travel photography is about escapism not claustrophobia. point is, ‘ sunrise peak ‘ deserves its title. the journey to the highest vantage point spaces out the tourists enough.

or maybe jiseong just managed to avoid the peak hours by stopping to frequently to document his hike up the crater. ( shut up. his lack of stamina has nothing to do with this. it’s called stopping to smell the flowers or whatever the full idiom is. look, he didn’t pay attention in class and he’s doing f i n e. back off. )

so without care as to what he might be like in another individual’s eyes, he gets on the ground, kneeling for the best shot. honestly, he would get on his belly if it had to be done. when someone speaks to him.

“i’m not a nature photographer,” jiseong retorts. and frowns, realizing he probably sound really rude right now. cradling the camera in one hand, he swings behind the lady, using his free hand to point her in the direction that you were trying to photograph. sure it included wispy clouds but it was more about the vastness of the landscape below.

jiseong steps back quickly in case he infringed too much upon her space. “definitely not as exciting as ladybugs or feeding a chipmunk though,” he says with a smile, hands coming together to support his camera. “do you miss it?” he ventures, “taking pictures i mean.” his heart quickens because he knows what it is like to be excited about something like this. part of him wants to offer her a go at the camera suspended around his neck. dumb. stupid idea. she’s a stranger for crying out loud but...

jiseong thrusts out a hand. “sorry, i’m kang jiseong. i do this for a living so i got excited.”

[riverwindphotography]

[hsjiseong]

『 big & little moments 』

[hsjiseong]

hseunho:

the sun is still blazing across the sky when you rouse from your nap, a comforting warmth blanketing over your body as you lie on the hammock. you’d be content to stay in slumber if not for the tender weight on your chest, reminding you that lungs need a healthy intake of oxygen.

“yuja-yah, why do you always sleep on me?” you chide, no real bite to your bark, fingers stroking along orange fur, gently soothing the cat awake.

once you’ve convinced her to let you free, you settle for some respite in the kitchen, fixing an afternoon snack out of boredom rather than a rising appetite. there’s hardly any guests around at this time of the day, so you allow yourself to enjoy the slow passage of time, fiddling with the ingredients until the presentation looks just right.

cue the footsteps and foreign voice. attention shifts when you realise you’re no longer alone.

“hey! you’re back early.”

but the suave man leaning against the counter doesn’t seem to share your enthusiasm, so you lend an ear for his troubled concerns instead.

“ah, i’m sorry to hear that.” you try not to look so dejected. futures can’t be so easily predicted and neither can the feelings of a man you’ve only met yesterday. but you can’t help but feel the fault that falls on you for being responsible for his enrollment into a tour he didn’t enjoy. what if this ruins his experience and henceforth, opinion of your hometown? AHHHHH— “um. one moment, please?”

inhale. a breath to settle the mind. exhale. a breathe to soothe the nerves. you find your bowl of yoghurt smiling at you, reminding you to do the same.

“have you eaten anything?” you ask instead. you hope he’d already found time for lunch but the unlikely event that he hasn’t is concerning. “you know what, i’ll make you one too. just a minute!”

and you move as quick as you promised. hands flying over ingredients you’ve fortunately yet to put away. the ease of making something you’ve done thousands and thousands of times restores your confidence. the quickest way to a man’s heart is his stomach — you’ll convince him to see how great jeju is eventually, but first! you have to trap him with food.

“here you go.” you present him a small bowl of the same dish you’ve made for yourself, except for the minor details that mirrors his face rather than your own (like the constellation of moles on his cheek). “a ‘hogurt’. on the house.” you grin. maybe he’s the type to like lame puns. “it’s my specialty. it’ll taste good i promise.”

you motion him to follow your steps and out into the patio. best to enjoy something refreshing out in the open when the weather’s this nice no?

you allow him some time to take in the scenery first. it’s only polite after all. and moments after, you start filling in the silence. “anyways, about your question, we do offer one-on-one tours! i can book you in if you’d like.” and by that, you mean your off-day tomorrow. a small price to pay because you're determined to convert him into singing tunes about the beauty of jeju.

unless that wasn’t the issue in the first place. hm.

“but why did you feel like the guided tour was lacking? if you don’t mind me asking.” blink, blink. maybe you need to gauge him differently. “i thought they went to the popular spots with nice views? was that not what you were after?”

his words seem so sincere. as if he was genuinely sorry that the tour wasn’t what you had in mind. part of you wants to interject. tell him it isn’t his fault but rather yours. that all your experiences abroad has tailored your taste to something more unique. that it was your fault for not being clear last night when you approached him for the first time. in your defense, you were flustered. his eyes were kind, face intimidatingly handsome — the sort of pairing that reduces your brain cells to none. and so when he asked if you were a guest at this establishment you panicked: said yes and signed yourself up for both the tour and a week stay at the bed & breakfast.

it’s not his fault at all.

you hold your tongue as you wait. hoping you weren’t interrupting.

he’s still kind enough to ask you if you’ve eaten. this homestay really has hired caring individuals to uphold their ideals. “um...” you begin, as eloquent as ever, because you ought to mention that you only ditched after the provided lunch. a man’s got to eat right? and local cuisines are essential in getting to know a place.

the other part of you wins. the one that tries to excuse your behavior as trying not to be rude. not wanting to hurt his feelings, et cetera. as if you weren’t blatantly staring at the way he assembles a quick mini meal for you. ( shut up jiseong, don’t read into it. ) wishing it was summer solstice and the air conditioner broke down so you can witness the way sinew becomes defined under skin. map it with your eyes. the flash of silver in his ears: two lobes, one cuff. the confidence that belongs to someone on a runway or the front of a magazine spread—

the bowl before you snaps you out of it. it’s so cute? you look up at him in awe, then back down at your own bowl, eyes flitting to his before returning. near identical images of corn flake hair, raisin nose, and maraschino cherry cheeks on a bed of plain yogurt. except that yours has three flecks of chia seeds to mimic your scatter of moles. you hope the heat in your cheeks doesn’t mirror the cherry red in your yogurt.

and then he makes a pun. as cute as the constructed face that smiles at you from the bowl.

obviously, you should give him a light chuckle of amusement but instead you go for your trademark laugh — the one where your eyes scrunch, mouth opens a bit too wide, your voice gets a bit loud, and you are just shy of slapping your knee from the hilarity. great. blew your cool. he probably finds you weird losing it over a well constructed pun.

“that’s clever,” you try to amend as you follow him out.

early afternoon breeze tousles with his hair. you hide your burgeoning smile with a spoonful of hogurt. “it’s delicious,” as he promised. takes a while for you to notice that you’ve commented. ( this is what months of traveling alone has done to you. dear god. ) twist the corner of your lips up to a smile and thank him internally for the turn of the conversation.

“i would like that,” you say in response to the one-on-one tours.

you are a bit taken aback by his next set of questions. didn’t think he would care. but it’s nice that he does. you take another mouthful as a break to think. hoping you don’t sound too privileged when the answer comes out.

“i don’t mind,” you begin, setting your bowl down between your thighs. you hope your body language comes across as relaxed / open / receptive or something. “popular spots with nice views are nice,” you say, hoping it doesn’t sound like you’re mocking him, “but i’m more of a hidden gem type of person.”

“like i said: experience a day in the life of a local. like favorite morning markets where people buy fresh seafood or hole in the wall restaurants where there is no menu because it depends on what’s available that day. or favorite spots to unwind in the sunset with a can of beer. sorry this is all related to food,” you chuckle. if your hands weren’t around a bowl of yogurt you might have used one to rub the nape of your neck. “but other sights too,” you finish a little generic and vague. the camera you wear around your neck isn’t an accessory and you aren’t a food blogger.

“i haven’t really told anyone this but,” you say, playful, flitting around as if he was privy to this top secret, leaning in to whisper it into his ear: “i used to come to jeju often as a kid. i’ve been to all the tourist spots.” and then pull away with a laugh, praying he doesn’t find you annoying.

[hsjiseong]

『 check in ; check out 』

@hsjihae​

jiseong focuses his lenses on the seagulls that traipse upon the sand. they aren’t as terrifying as their brethren that dot the australian coast line ( jiseong learned that early on when his burger was torn from his hand before he even had a bite ) but he still remains cautious. scanning this strip of beach for something interesting. anything interesting. not a child running too fast and tripping and crying interesting. more of a this photograph and its composition will win me awards in a magazine type interesting.

he sighs internally as he zooms in on yet another drawn in the sand confession — complete with a huge ass heart. what happened to good old sand sculptures and sand castles. if you want to declare your love, might as well put some time and effort into it.

jiseong sweeps his camera and it lands on someone less than a meter behind him. quickly lowers his camera so it doesn’t seem like he’s creepily taking pictures of her and returns to the beach view.

a few minutes later, he turns around.

she’s still there.

staring intently(?) at him.

jiseong looks down at his clothes. is pairing a diving long sleeved shirt with a pair of shorts that offensive? he takes another peek at her again.

yup. still there. still staring.

or are his flip flops broken somehow? nope.

she’s still looking in this direction.

maybe he’s blocking her view?

so he follows her line of gaze and well...

he pulls the front of his shirt and takes a small whiff. concerned that the mixture of sun and ocean water has caused some putrid reaction.

well it ain’t great but it also shouldn’t affect anyone beyond five centimeters or less.

okay, jiseong, he tells himself ( because holding conversations in your head is a very normal thing to do ), you could just walk out of her line of sight.

but here’s the thing: curiosity killed the cat. and although jiseong may not be a cat, he still has an unhealthy dose of curiosity from his love of human stories. so he turns around and makes a list of things he could say:

‘ am i in your way? ’ but like more polite, gentleman manner in that after you, holding the door, chivalry isn’t dead ( yet )

‘ do i have something on me? ’ but less accusatory. genuine concern about presentation etc.

‘ nice day isn’t it? ’ wait that makes you sound like a creep waiting for a chance to strike up a conversation

‘ are you checking me out? ’ in a joking tone because who the fuck would when you’re dressed like this.

jiseong flashes a smile and says: “are you checking me out?”

the sentence dawns on him after he’s let it out into the open. fuck. fuck. fuck. abort. not only did he not do the right intonation for it to pass off as a joke he definitely sounds like a self-possessed ass wipe. f u c k.

[hsjiseong]

『 big & little moments 』

the waves crash against the jagged edges of the cliff — a small cry before they return to the fabric of their existence. it’s funny how you never get tired of this sight. that no matter where you visit, the lull of the waves speaks home into existence. brings you back to this coast line in particular. reminding you of the awe that swelled up in your five year old frame.

and now that you are here it feels a little bit like home but also a bit too foreign.

what used to be looming structures feel a lot smaller. the old houses symbolic of jeju-do have been replaced with more modernized looks. large windows taking over most of the wall to soak in more of the scenery.

it doesn’t feel right. it’s not what you’ve been looking for.

you lower your camera. too lazy to flip through the photographs you’ve just taken. you know you’ve taken dozens from the same angle and none of them will capture the way the water sparkles.

you look at the other members of this tour group trudging ahead, the looks on their faces matching the way you felt all those years ago.

this may be wrong. might have been a waste of your day to sign up for this guided tour that only touches popular tour locations but its a start.

so you let your camera hang around your neck like an accessory for the rest of the day as you fall in line with the rest of the wide eyed folk.

@hseunho

it doesn’t stop you from approaching that man you saw on the way into the bed and breakfast after ditching the tour early. ( the one with the broad shoulders, handsome smile, and a way with animals. )

“hey,” hating how you sound. sheepish, shy. you’re not like this at all so you lean against the counter for support. “the guided tour was a little lacking...” you start, hoping it doesn’t offend, “i was wondering if you knew anyone who was willing to do one-one-one tours.” ugh, how is this easier in english or charades. you blame the years abroad.

“kind of like a day in the life of a local,” you chuckle.

[hsjiseong]

who’s excited?? *drumrolls*

ba dum tss

ah ah *clears throat* hello there. i am very lame as you can see but super excited to be here!! unfortunately i don’t have any premade plots in mind but open to anything!! just cha cha slide into my dms if you will (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

so a tl;dr of jiseong:

used to frequent jeju-do once a year during summer vacations for 2 weeks as a child. stopped when he turned 15

enlisted right out of high school

went to glasgow for undergrad. studied abroad his junior year in kyoto

currently a freelance travel photographer who rented his aunt’s old property and planning to stay ~6months

fun facts?

you can catch him around town photographing things

stayed in bnb for a week ( despite having a rent because he gay panicked™ )

used to drum etc

loves animals

( the thing he misses most about europe other than cobblestone paths is his morning routine of popping into local bakeries before class starts )

[hsjiseong]

《 jamais vu 》

the trumpet vine has spread from its original spot and now winds itself around the stone entrance. in summer, the sun will catch the vibrant red and the green will be speckled by crimson. your camera will be ready then for the way trumpet creepers contrast against the endless blue sky.

you clasp your hands together and bow your head in the direction of the plant’s origin. underneath the soil lies the remains of your aunt’s beloved standard poodle. the one you used to try to ride as a child. the one that was too tall so it was so hard to wrap your small arms around it to give it a hug. a smile forms on your face as you think of the summers you spent here each year.

the way your aunt seems to always be looking forward to your arrival: welcoming her sister with a loving embrace, handing her brother-in-law a firm shake, gifting your noona a newly handcrafted handbag made from scrap bojagi, and sending diablo after you. mostly named for his behavior when aunt first bought him as a puppy. but you swear it is because of the way he looks in photographs: a pair of red eyes in pitch darkness. you called him daebak though. his true name a bit too hard for your tongue and the way he made you feel — now that’s just self explanatory.

he topples you over with enthusiastic licks and you laugh.

you swear you can still hear his bark in this empty yard.

you are too old for this but you can’t help but wonder if he’s been lonely for the past decade. aunt sold this place shortly after diablo’s death. ( old age for a dog still feels too short. ) said she lost her motivation and the art of bojagi could be continued elsewhere. but you know better.

you crouch, fingers brushing against the leaves, and whisper a short apology. once aunt moved out, you haven’t returned to jeju since. and judging from how easy it was to rent this place, you assume the owners only visit this place as a vacation home. pity, you think. this is a beautiful place to live.

it’s hard not to get a tiny bit upset when aunt’s old workshop has been converted to another bedroom. or how instead of yo, every room now has a western bed. a rather new dining room table instead of soban.

maybe renting this place for the next six months was a bad idea. can’t help but reminisce the way your entire family would gather for dinner, crowded around the low table, trying to sample all the local side dishes. or how the only time you and your sister could sleep between your parents and feel like a family was under this roof.

you rise and dust off your jeans. heft the bag that holds your camera. give the vines one last look before you set off towards civilization.

you have spent the entirety of the past week unpacking. visited some local places. chatted up some shopkeepers and yet ironically still feel lost. you’re used to traveling to places where you don’t speak the language. but you’ve had help whether that be a tour guide you hired or how you combed through travel blogs for obscure locations. but here… here… the familiarity has stunted you somehow. kept you within the walls of your own residence, filling your camera with stones, trees, and the ever changing sky.

the shopkeeper two blocks away told you about a bed and breakfast on tuesday. said it was perfect for travelers like you. you study her sun loved face and wonder what it will take for her to mistake you for a local. no one ever took you for one in europe even when you lived like one. will six months be enough?

you thank her. but it still took you a couple days to come around.

a dog barks as it comes to greet you. you hold your hand out for it to assess you. eyes trailing it as it runs back to a man crouched near the entrance, back broad and a smile so reassuring that you don’t feel out of place as you step into the bed and breakfast. you can’t help but wonder if he is a guest or the owner.

you look around and wonder what stories are shared in this place as you work up the courage to ask for a guide to show you around the island.

[ongdata]

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