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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() I rise from the kitchen stool, staring out into the woods where leaves swirl down from the maple trees. Winter dangles from the sky, growing ice on the Hydrangea flowers I’ve watered and grown. Above me, the sun blurs between a misty cloud, casting shadows around the house. Brown boxes wrapped with duct tape crowd the floor, ready to be ferried onto trucks. Outside, stiff
wind claws at the shoji paper and the door knob clicks. I want to watch the sun climb down from the sky, and hear the waves from Hamdeok crash onto rocks. I stare at the miniature Dol-hareubangs that were once loved by my sister, now with dust piling up on their hats. The sculpture's bulging eyes remind me of the sun at the beach. I picture the miniature figures held in the air by the hands of my neighbor’s children, skipping among the tulips that have turned frosty. Strings of sunlight shine against their messy hair, their soft breathing filling the air. I walk towards Geumneung Beach. My feet sink into the sand. The trucks have come and I look back towards the rippling sea for the last time. Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
September 2023
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