Da-won

The title of the work is 'Dawon is My Little Sister.' I don't think the title means much, but the time I still couldn't put a name on him made it very difficult for me for a very long time. He gave it a name that could be the subject. His father, who is not shown in the picture, lived his whole life as a poor stranger traveling around the world on a fishing boat. Also, the time he stayed with me was too short. His last life, portrayed with compassion, was strange and disgusting. Because he was like a part of a blackened wall that no one could talk to, and he was not alive.

*You exist only through your traces on mine. Writing about you is nothing more than describing the absence that is left around you, who doesn't exist. You are an empty figure that cannot be filled with writing.

His last came to me in 2012, when I turned 20, and I stood outside the cold iron door and shed tears of regret, but I did not open the door and looked through the intercom without any emotion or words. He was no longer scary. He was very skinny and old, wearing rubber shoes with their soles torn off. The unfamiliar appearance made me feel an unknown sense of guilt for a moment. But leaving that heart behind, I completely turned my back on it. And through the intercom, he said, “If you press the doorbell one more time, you will stab me in the chest and die.” Those were the first and last words he had ever said to him at birth. And he committed suicide a few days later in his father's hometown. After death, other uncomfortable emotions began to take over, and I felt myself getting sick. It is a record that started from the trembling of wanting to face those feelings that cannot be expressed in words. He is my father and not my father. But that day, he left a note saying he loved him and was sorry, and left a box of unsightly tangerines.f