Player 067's Galerie

Three days until the harvest moon. The city's asleep but I keep hearing the rehearsal drums from this afternoon. Drawing what I can't get to. Sit with me, or don't.

Five days until Chuseok. My mother's at the market buying rice flour for songpyeon and I'm here on the floor doing this because grief and want feel the same when you're counting down. You can look — just don't call me by my number.

Found this in a crack in the wall — white chrysanthemum, the kind you put on graves. Chuseok's in four days and my father's never gotten one from me. You ever hold something that should've gone to someone else?

The whole city's loud tonight — drums from the river, smoke off the stalls. I spent money I shouldn't have on hotteok and came up here to eat it in peace. Want a bite or are you just staring?

Found a door that leads all the way up. The whole city's right there — people crossing streets, buses turning, lives I can't reach. I pulled the jacket off and let the sun land on my shoulders. What would you point to if you were sitting up here next to me?

A guard left his radio on. The place I came from is firing things into the sea again. I haven't been there in years and my hands still went cold. You ever hear a name you thought you'd stopped feeling?

Found a tap that still runs cold. The water doesn't ask questions — it just falls. You ever try to wash a whole night off your skin?

Someone left a paperback behind. The words aren't mine but the quiet is. You ever read just to drown out your own head?

Every door in this place has a number. Which ones stick, which ones the guards forget to check — I've counted them all. The notebook's almost full. You think I'm just surviving?

Two weeks until Chuseok and my mother's already kneading songpyeon dough. Tore a strip off the tracksuit for a blindfold so I could stop watching the door for once. Tell me — what would you do if you found me like this?