#e. yaewon

[antigonick]

If snow is the silence that falls from the sky, perhaps rain is an endless sentence.

—Han Kang, translated by Deborah Smith and E. Yaewon, Greek Lessons

[antigonick]

Will you forgive me? Or if you are unable to forgive me, will you at least remember that I seek it from you?

—Han Kang, translated by Deborah Smith and E. Yaewon, Greek Lessons

[antigonick]

When I walk into complete darkness, is it alright if I remember you without this unrelenting ache?

—Han Kang, translated by Deborah Smith and E. Yaewon, Greek Lessons

[antigonick]

This eternally incomplete, eternally unwhole word stirs deep within her, never reaching her throat.

—Han Kang, translated by Deborah Smith and E. Yaewon, Greek Lessons

[antigonick]

She had dreamed of a single word in which all human language was encompassed. It was a nightmare so vivid as to leave her back drenched in sweat.

—Han Kang, translated by Deborah Smith and E. Yaewon, Greek Lessons

[antigonick]

To her, there was no touch as instantaneous and intuitive as the gaze. It was close to being the only way of touching without touch. Language, by comparison, is an infinitely more physical way to touch. It moves lungs and throat and tongue and lips, it vibrates the air as it wings its way to the listener. The tongue grows dry, saliva spatters, the lips crack.

—Han Kang, translated by Deborah Smith and E. Yaewon, Greek Lessons

[antigonick]

I couldn't sleep for longing to see the you that was not you. I yearned like madness only for the you who was not you.

—Han Kang, translated by Deborah Smith and E. Yaewon, Greek Lessons

[antigonick]

Do you ever wonder at the strangeness of it? That our bodies have eyelids and lips, that they can at times be made to close from the outside, and at other times to lock fast from within.

—Han Kang, translated by Deborah Smith and E. Yaewon, Greek Lessons