Great Novelist

“Thank you for eating. ”

“I'll come back another time. ”

The writers came out of the store and said hello to Song. He lowers his head slightly. Song said to come anytime with a saying that it's been a long time since so many writers have been there. Nine writers spoke last before they left the store.

“Time to go. ”

“I'm afraid I can't go to karaoke. ”

“Some of us are underage and some of us are living. We'll be in touch again anyway. ”

A section and a voice of faith were heard. Faith seems to be a shame that only the people who gathered together eat and break up. Next to him, the calculations yawn small. The person who lived in the mountain looked very sleepy. He asked her.

“You're not going to the mountains, are you? Where are you staying?”

“Hotel.”

She replied briefly. Then he went around and said,

“What a bright city. The mountain's already in the middle of the night. ”

“Is it time for bed? ”

“Yes. I fell asleep a long time ago. ”

yawned again. Her lips were not as red as before. I was engraving her blurry look on my eyes, and I suddenly asked. He replied late by a beat.

“You said you were confident, right? ”

“Yes?”

“In there. ”

When he didn't say anything, she said.

“I have one, too. ”

I have been assured that if there is a victory or defeat in art without scores or rules to cover the battle, it will be a measure of emotion. How much the writer moves the other person's mind with his/her writing. Indeed, it is abstract and subjective. Instead, no one disputes. I'm impressed. I'm impressed. You lose your mind or it's not funny. Boring. That honesty never existed.

Seeing her in the bright lights of the city made me feel strange. I wonder if I can impress her writing. I wonder if I can impress her. What kind of writing would she write? What can you write?

While I was staring at her quietly, I was intruded by the excitement of faith.

“I have one, too! ”

You hear a rash laugh next to you. I was standing there biting my toothpick. His fluorescent churning shined even more under the streetlight. By contrast, it might be because it's next to a well-dressed street.

“That's right, that's right. We are, too. Mr. Choi is too fortuitous. ”

They were definitely struggling. Writing on the same topic as these people would be fun.

“Hey.”

Then someone talked to me. It was two women holding their arms together. They asked Calculator very carefully.

“Aren't you Writer Yoon Sang-chul? ”

“Yes, that's right. ”

“I'm a huge fan. ”

Two people covered their mouths with their hands. He described himself as a fan of calculation. They looked confidently at the existence of the mountain and asked the section next to it.

“You're a great writer, right? ”

Now that the section nods, this time round your feet. The two of them expressed their elongation and searched the writers around them. Faith, Motivation, West, and Best. He seems to know everyone.

He had fallen behind with Junsu ever since they recognized the calculations. Unintentionally unknowable groups were formed. Lee said, looking at the popular writers who are signing.

“Sir, I'd like to be a part of that. ”

“It won't be long now. ”

Junsu smiled softly and patted his back.

“That's right, Brother. Enjoy this relaxing life. ”

“I'm sorry, I don't find your words very comforting. ”

He did not accept Lord's comfort. The cause of death, which started with the two, was suddenly forming a small group. I'm taking pictures. He pledged that he would never go near it, and spread the distance a little further. Junsu recognized that and said.

“Shall we go first? ”

“You didn't even say hello. ”

“It's okay. We always end up in fishing groups. Let's go.”

Junsu sent a text message to her cell phone and walked away without looking back.

“I'll take you home. I'll get the car. Wait. ”

Junsu said as he got out of an alley. He said it was okay to take the last car, but he couldn't send a minor alone.

“I hear what you said to the teacher. Did you see that I don't drink? It's not a DUI, so just take it. ”

He didn't have to keep denying them, so he accepted their kindness coldly. Junsu turned to the nearest parking lot, and waited for him under the orange streetlight with the rooftops. I just walked out of the main road and it was quiet around me. Things that were noisy seemed far away. I asked him if he felt the same way.

“Have you been writing lately? ”

“I'm always writing. ”

“You mean you don't really use it? Then I'll go write a thread at the end and the beginning. ”

“Maybe. I'll get into it right away. ”

The roots nod small. And I smiled small. He looked a little excited.

“What a coincidence and a literary symphony. ”

A small shadow moves over the orange. It was a moth chasing the light.

“Don't get me wrong. We had a couple of meals together. ”

“I see. It feels a little unrealistic. Maybe it's the drinking. ”

“Are you drunk?”

“I'm not drunk. ”

He said decisively. It didn't look drunk, but the tip of my ear reminded me more than usual.

“I write these days. ”

“Yes. You said that at dinner, right? ”

“Ask him what he's writing. ”

He moved as he wished.

“What are you writing? ”

“I won't tell you. ”

I was just convinced he was drunk. He was probably the late bloomer type. I'm kidding. I'm kidding. He laughs alone and says:

“The one with the hot hair is writing the main character. ”

A warm head. There is a figure that comes to mind. I spilled my USB stick in the toilet. As a student of the book, he was an unnamed writer who left the paragraphs. There were definitely close friends when it happened.

“I haven't been able to sleep since I used it. ”

“Can't you sleep when you're writing? ”

“No, I sleep very well. ”

“What's so special about it this time? ”

What's keeping him awake? He replied.

“You.”

His gaze was on him.

“Me?”

“Yes. Coincidence in this world. What happens unexpectedly makes people nervous. ”

The orange light makes him even more red. He will also look red in his eyes.

“It was affected by you. I don't write so desperately. Just as easily as you can throw it away. ”

I remember the first time I met him. He was abandoning the manuscript.

“You don't write enough to regret it? ”

And I regretted it. The red-eared writer smiles.

“So it's not desperate. Regret follows me no matter what I do. ”

The moth moves distractly. The shadow flickers.

“I'm writing about you. ”

Keung said.

“Junsu wrote about you, too. I read it. It was not like Junsu. It was rough and unpretentious. Thanks to you, it's abandoned in one of the workshops, and it's not going to happen in the world. ”

He remembered many manuscripts stacked up in his room. That's what Junsu wrote.

“What I'm writing is no different. Writing in this state of instability is hardly a chore room. There are too many scattered traces all around. ”

“Usually I just put her in the corner. ”

“But I'm going to. ”

Oh, my God. He was going to publish his unsafe writing exactly as it is. Sometimes someone's anxiety shakes their mind. You have to see what kind of book he's going to finish.

“You're going to regret this. ”

It was clear that he would regret it.

“I'm not afraid of regret. ”

“It's cool.”

“It's scary, actually. ”

“I wish I hadn't said that. ”

“I'm regretting it. ”

He was like that. The anxiety used by such people is quite exciting. He had a very good sense of handling that kind of writing.

“Junsu's car. ”

Light comes in from afar. Junsu got into a car and came home. After a late departure, he went to bed. Regret, death. It was in my head. In the end, I was able to sleep after writing one more article to be added to the high stack of manuscripts.

“Nice day. ”

He looked up at the blue sky and said. He lowers his head, and the river unfolds in front of him. They're all blue. They're glowing with light. A vibrant space.

“Let's go for a bike ride. ”

“Do you want ice cream? ”

“There's a seat over there. Oh, did you hear about that? ”

There were many people in the Han River to get along with him. The one walking. Who eats. Biker or fisher. He sat on the grass, looking at those people. It was a perfect place to see such people because it was a breached space everywhere. Sleep fair, of course.

The gods are exposed.

A baby walking hand in hand with his mother passed by my side. The baby is not used to walking, so he moves his legs dangerously slow. The mother was anxious that the child would fall. Those who pass by laugh at the child. I also cheered for my child. Dog passed by. Put out your tongue.

I felt like I was making a big smile by pushing and pulling my mouth up. Sunny, pure black eyes looked at the child. Is that dog cheering for him, too? Anyway, it's cute.

At the same time, I thought, even that cute one can't escape death. Dogs and people can't avoid the end once they've started. Somehow, I felt like I was alone in a depressing thought. Away from this bright spot. He wasn't a writer writing about death.

I would have been able to cheer for my child comfortably.

Literature school, ending and beginning. According to the information I heard from the section, all writers finished their concepts and picked up pens. Everyone was writing their own planned story. Someone at the inn, someone at the office, someone on the mountain.

But he has not yet begun to conceive. It wasn't because I was on guard or too strong. He faced the writing with the same mind as usual.

I see the river. It moves endlessly. It goes on and on. There must be a lot of talk in there somewhere. One of them could be his past. I felt like if I put my foot in there, I could catch the story I wanted. And I was sure that once I got in there,

Poetry does not come out.

So don't go in there. You have writing to do. I still have something I want to write about.

“And I've already been inside. ”

I didn't need a plan. He put his hands on his laptop.

When they get together (5) End

lim Han-baek