love resides in the commonplace — intimacy exists in the spaces of ordinary service: and paik sa-eon is the very embodiment of this kind of devotion — attention towards the minutiae of a relationship: the tiny acts of tenderness that can make or break a union.
the kind of devotion that says: "i'll wash these fruits for you so that it's safe for you to eat." "i'll lower the bed for you so you're comfortable while you sleep." "i'll take care of your everyday needs because that's exactly what i want to do — take care of you every single day."
there's a special kind of bittersweet longing leaking through sa-eon's eyes when heejoo begs him not to go — an inchoate ache as he cradles her hand to his face: almost as if his lips are anchoring themselves to her skin; reassuring his own self that she's safe, unharmed — still with him. still his to touch. still his to look after.
simple gestures are often how you measure the soul of a marriage — whether you're with someone who cares about the temperature of the water when he's washing your hair. whether you're with someone who'll dry it for you with painstaking carefulness.
as poet ilya kaminsky wrote: "soaping together — that is sacred to me / you can fuck anyone — but with whom can you sit in water?"
to sa-eon; heejoo is as inevitable as the weather — an endless force in his life. a forever presence: someone so threaded to the fibers of his being that he can't help but say: "tell me how to hate you: (because i'm physically incapable of looking at you with anything but love.)"
