Great Novelist

He walked the path. There aren't many trees with cars and people walking around, and there are sidewalks and walls.

If you go down this road, you'll find something special. Abandoned chewing gum on the floor. Other people's saliva. Dog droppings and human waste. There is a dead mammoth, or sometimes a piece of raw meat.

Of course, they're not the only garbage. Rings and money can also be found on the street. Leaves, too.

He went for a walk to meet those things today.

I was looking for a gift for him. He said he didn't want anything, but he didn't want someone to give him a gift. He thought what he would be pleased with. And I remembered, he resembled himself. He was offended, but sensitive to language because he resembled himself.

In the world he lives in, there are wide earths and high mountains. There were clear boundaries in each area. Different cultures and different languages

Yes, a language He wanted to create a world with multiple languages for him.

And now I've come out looking for clues in that language. Wind howling. Car howling. And the sound of people.

He listened to them and walked the streets.

“Careful, careful. ”

“Get out of the way. ”

“Oww, it's heavy. ”

People were moving something. Huge wagons and packaged luggage. I could tell at a glance. I moved.

A few miles away, a pile of stuff is thrown away. The giant boot opens its mouth. It was a slaughterhouse. The old remains intact.

I'm just amazed at how spectacular and delicate it would be. But it was being discarded.

“What are you doing? ”

A young woman wearing only sleeveless sleeves and shorts looks at herself with a cigarette. He looked like he lived around here in a light dress. I wonder if he's the neighbor of the house he's moving to. He said as is.

“The spectacle.”

“What's there to see here? ”

“Lots of them. Moving things around, or these pendants here. ”

“Everything is spectacular. ”

She took a deep smoke and said so. He examined the discarded again. The little things were in a box. Inside, I saw all kinds of junk. Toys, bowls, vases, screws, bells, and arrows.

He raised it. The arrowheads rust, but they are definitely hit. I don't know what the hell he was doing, but he had an arrow and he threw it away.

It was surprisingly interesting.

“Arrows?”

She talks again. It seems pretty boring to smoke alone. He replied gladly, being his companion was not a bad thing.

“Yes, it's an arrow. ”

I felt like I was going to break soon because of my poor management. He looked around at it. What kind of language does the people who use arrows speak? It must resemble an arrow.

“Why did they have arrows? ”

In the Lord's question, she said after a sip of cigarette.

“Maybe he was going hunting. ”

The answer was no last name. He shot him in the foot as well.

“On a horse? ”

“Won't you get on? Walking around with a dog. ”

“I think I'll wear animal leather. ”

“Could it be a cold local? ”

He told me the image of the hunters we have together. For her, it would be just a matter of time. However, it was a time of creation for Australia.

“So what language do they speak? ”

“Language? What a strange question. ”

It narrows your eyebrows a little. I don't understand the question. She replied with such an uncomfortable face.

“You're no different from us. ”

“Why?”

He asked why. She said that the people who carry arrows, hunt, wear leather and draw dogs, and live in cold places, will speak a language no different from ours.

“Hunting is what people do. Anything that comes out of a man's mouth is there. ”

“There are many languages in the world. ”

“I see.”

“What about the text that looks like arrows? ”

He asked. She breathes smoke out of her mouth and tilts her head slightly.

“Wouldn't that be okay? ”

Again, there was no good faith. It was the attitude that interest was now dead. He smiled at the explicit answer.

“I'll take that, then. ”

“What do you see? Are you writing?”

You don't even have time to answer questions like that.

“Good luck. ”

She said, without asking deeply, she asked for a cigarette in her mouth. After that, it was silent. Only the transport is moving from place to place. She throws her butt to the ground and steps on it, making sure she's out of cigarettes. Then I left.

“Goodbye. ”

He greeted her. She tucks her hand into her pocket, glances back and leaves. He picks up her discarded tobacco butt, puts it in the trash, sweeps through her long robes, and leaves.

“Read this passage, Attendance No. 18. ”

“Yes.”

The classroom was full of classes. 18 read the text in the textbook with a stammer. It was an unusual tone. It is a foreign language

He looked down and saw a textbook on his desk. There were alphabets listed.

It's Western.

Looking at that list, he listed the language he had remembered so far in his mind. Greek, Medieval English, Ancient English, Latin, Ancient Scandinavian, Gothic, Medieval Welsh, Finnish, Spanish, Italian, Swedish, Danish, Norwegian, Dutch, Lombardy, Russian, Cantonese, Simplified, Shanghai, Japanese, etc.

Hearing 18 pronunciations, he moved the pen. I thought about roughly what kind of letters to write. I found a clue when I met her who was having a cigarette.

The text started in the picture. A long, long time ago, people used to write things down in paintings. A picture is a vision. Like an arrow, there is a target. Baron frequently draws a target called the Moon Book.

There were limits to the characters that expressed what was visible. The world became more complex and there were more things that could not be expressed by painting. I want to say it back, I want to be sarcastic, I want to exaggerate, I want to express my invisible feelings.

So the text evolved.

The language you create is the same. It changes over time. Ancient, medieval, and modern.

I divided the language into two main parts. Western and Eastern languages.

I recalled hieroglyphs, hieroglyphs commonly seen in Egyptian ruins, and Sumerian hieroglyphs in Hammurabi. Hanja is also a representative hieroglyph that imitates the target.

Lines and curves. Dots and lines again. It is still close to the picture.

It changes. It writes faster, more like a sound than a meaning. In order to do that, I needed to remove the characteristics of my existing language. The bow bends. The blade remains.

It's getting sharper. I changed my appearance to suit my handwriting needs over time. It can be used as a branch easily. It was like a spear, like a sword, like a bow.

He separated it. And they distributed letters that looked like spears, letters that looked like swords, and letters that looked like bows.

Weapons wear out in the hands of men. Vocabularies develop and decline with their lives. There is no need for those who do not hunt. It can only be used to cut fruit in the kitchen. Not bad. It's a natural phenomenon of choice.

Over time, hieroglyphs disappear and phonographs appear. He quickly closed the time of language. It turned into a simple and simple shape. It spreads through the world with people's mouths. The most commonly used and non-spoken languages arise.

The margin of the textbook was filled with a language that I had never seen before.

I focused on the Eastern language. It was also the Hanja that came to mind. It is a language that survives even though it is a hieroglyph. When everyone turned their backs and chose sound, the Hanja remained. It has been used by many people to date.

“I hear waves coming from afar. ”

I heard the voice of attendance number 18.

Language that remains the same, no matter how many years pass. Things that don't change. He wanted to make such a character in the novel.

I painted a picture on the corner of the textbook. Again, there is a straight line and a curve. There were dots, but this language is a little special. It's tight, so there's no way to break it like a bow. No matter how hard you push, it won't break.

He was concerned.

It is uncomfortable to write as it is, and the text is stubborn to take it out. There are two choices: or take the inconvenience, or put a bunch of letters together and create another one that mimics it.

The region under the domination of the Asian alphabet selects either. Selection results in a variety of languages. The various languages that occurred then are unfortunately very complex forms. After all, I often end my life without using it for a long time. It is glamorous and delicate, but ultimately discarded.

Using it as a feature, he decided to make it difficult for him to decide and decipher. It was the main part of organizing and translating them.

I had to use a new language because the language had ended my life. Borrow from another region. But it is an act of great pride. Someone commands. Make a language.

Stories are born here.

He handed over the textbooks. Because the space is full. And then I started doodling on the next chapter. New languages. West and east. I changed the list, reversed the form, and created the language to be given to each region. People in the middle of the region learn two languages.

If there is a glorified language, there is also a language that is ignored.

He, who was rolling it in his head, took it to his mouth. To remind me of my pronunciation. I slowly tasted and opened my mouth. Flexible and hard to understand pronunciation came to mind. I engraved one pronunciation next to the characters I drew.

Some letters gave a thin, sharp pronunciation and some letters gave a thick, blunt pronunciation.

As the language is completed, their lives also reveal their form. The characters in the novel start to understand how to wear them, how to eat them, and how to live. It's fun.

Looking at the textbooks and studying the language, he remembered the existence that had been forgotten for a while. God. There is a god who hides himself in high places.

I want to create the language of God.

He recalled the memory of going for a walk. It was to find an element to enter the language of God. Chewing gum, excrement, meat pieces, rings, money, walls, people, cars, noise, leaves, moving.

There was nothing useful.

He moved his hand unconsciously. God, God, God.

God?

What you're looking at is a text. Phoneme letters. Multiple elements come together to form one. A text that can tell the creator. I touched the image of God. Hangul. It's the first letter I've come across. I know its beauty and its greatness. He gathered all the ingredients for the roots.

The book of the Lord's Book of Books darkened.

End of language

lim Han-baek