Great Novelist

I saw the zebra. It was a living zebra. Zebras are trapped inside the fence, bouncing their tails off without a castle. A spectacular stain, unique to Zebra, was surrounded by dirt and dust.

“Zebra!”

The crowd on the other side shouts at Zebra. It was quite a commotion in the small zoo of the park. He looked at him. He was about to stamp the zebra with his phone in his hand. Zebra looks at him for a moment and puts his face into the house. Only Exposure

The part that became was the butt.

“Look here. ”

My butt twitches. That was the end. He wasn't too disappointed. Rather than seriously speaking to Zebra, I was more like a shout to convey the situation to my friends. As they disappeared, Zebra held out her head. The Zebra was burying her face in the house.

I know Yu. I didn't want to be photographed. I'm afraid of being trapped in a fence and having to go around the same place, but the Humans try to trap themselves in that little angle again. Zebra resisted.

“Zebra is pretty. ”

You hear an artificial shutter. While he held out his face for a while, someone put him in an angle. Zebra's eyes were lifeless.

“Come quickly, Chairman. ”

You hear a high tone of laughter behind you. Five women posing under the tree burst into laughter at once. The tree was a cheerful sound that seemed to laugh together. He stood in a line dressed in a colorful hiking suit. One of them set the timer on the camera and ran.

Joined the western procession. Side to front. I could feel their eyes turning around and looking at the camera. It was so simple, I could easily imagine sharing the best photos. I'll pick the best spot and put it in a frame. Frame yourself.

A frame for pictures taken from a machine with bugs in it. Novels have frames, too. The frame that surrounds the photo. The inside story, the outside story.

“Framed structure. ”

Framed structure is literally a story structure that resembles a frame. Just as photos and frames serve to protect it, so does a story with a framed structure. The inside story was the center.

I thought of a blue insect. He got himself into the camera. The doll shawl did not appear negative for being forgotten. Zebra resisted. What story will you write? It's love. I've decided to use it.

I opened the laptop that was on my knee. There was a skeleton. There was a mixture of materials to frame and materials to photograph. The story outside the frame begins in the first person. In order to be a first-person person, a country has to appear. I am I. I am the way home

C. Leave home for the rest of my life. I am obsessed with the certainty that I forgot something. No matter how hard I try, I don't think I've forgotten. I don't know what I forgot. I don't know where I forgot it.

He decided to push me more tightly. Realizing that he forgot is on the train. I don't even know it. The train has already left. I'm crying. I even think about going back.

A woman spoke to me like that. She was the one on the same train. I answer honestly when asked why I am so anxious. I forgot something. It's very valuable. But I forgot. Guilt hurts. I think I'll pass.

She said she was on her way back to her hometown, unlike me. She brings up stories she forgets all the time to comfort me. Very recently I remembered. It was about a missing child she had heard from her hometown.

I paused. This is the frame. It covers the story of a child who's about to go missing. I got on the same train, but the meaning of the destination was that the story of the other two clearly matched the picture.

You hear a loud scream from a distance. It resembles the best scream I've heard lately. I looked up and saw people escaping with the appearance of bugs. The worm flaps its wings like a vibration, dropping its legs and floating around in the air. Ashes as opposed to the blue shells we encountered on the mountain

He looked dead. He was taller too. It was a round feeling insect.

“I'm on my back. ”

“Where, where! ”

Grab your clothes and struggle. He was ready to take off his clothes at once. The worm began to fly again before he took off his clothes. He took out the phone in his pocket and took a picture. There was a distance from the bugs, so I came out like dust. I took a look and deleted it.

Now it's a photograph. The inside story takes place in three people. Hometown, missing children and insects. The child is introverted. The child did not have a friend's friendship with the parents. He hated bad parents in parenting and bothered the world of forcing him to be alone. He's home.

Leaving for the mountains. It was the back mountain of a neighborhood I had only seen from afar. I had no friends to go with or family to take with me. It was my first time going into a mountain.

He imagined the child wandering around the mountain. He gets lost after careful adventure, just as he imagined. A bug approaches him, left on the mountain until nightfall. A beautiful insect with a blue skin. Insects don't run away even if they slip into your hands. Low

He doesn't sail. He trembles with joy, like the one who holds the world in his hands. He was found by a passerby, returned home safely, and began his life with the bugs he had brought from the mountain.

He sneaks into his parents' room, discards the goldfish they had raised, and provides a place for the insects in the fishbowl. They bury the lost goldfish in a fishbowl, but he says he doesn't know. He hides a narrow nest of fishbowls, wrapped in clothes and boxes several layers. But in the end,

The owner of the house is the parent. No matter how he used dragons, there was a limit to how many secrets he kept. He's hunted and cornered.

At this point, I turned my gaze back to the outside story. The train has stopped. It's a long way for both of you to arrive. Explore the sights of new people on board. He picks out the fetched egg, shares it with her and urges her to tell a story. I don't care what I've already forgotten.

Her story was exciting. More people are eavesdropping and more curious. Then my phone rang in my pocket. He takes his hands off his laptop.

“Hello?"

“Why aren't you here? ”

It was Nam-Kyung. A rather silly answer came out of the mind halfway through the story.

“What?”

“We were supposed to meet in 30 minutes. Is the park here yet? ”

“Ah.”

I remembered why I came to the park. I was supposed to meet with him today. If he hadn't called, he wouldn't even know time was running out. Fortunately, it was not far to the Botanical Gardens. I got up right away and went to the meeting place. Unlike myself, I'm in a hurry.

was relaxing eating a sandwich.

“I bought yours, too. ”

“Thank you."

He asked, gazing at the laptop he had brought.

“Were you going to write? ”

“Yes, I've just been using it. ”

“Gosh, I should have waited longer. ”

It was a sad expression to see if it didn't interfere with good writing. He reassured him.

“I'm just putting on some weight. Well, it was almost writing in the middle. ”

I was not a thorough planner and writer. Because of this, I often counted the plots by other routes.

“Is that also used in the literature? ”

“No, I'm writing it down as an announcement. ”

I checked the contents of the sandwich. The boiled egg is crushed.

“I think I eat a lot of eggs these days. ”

“· · · · · · · · What? ”

“Eggs.”

“No, that's not it. ”

He gives you a rough chew sandwich and asks.

“Are you writing something to publish? ”

“You have to try to see if it's published. ”

“· · · · · · · · With the cannula in mind? ”

“Should I keep that in mind? ”

I'm just writing a story that I want to write. At that point, Nam-Kyung put down his sandwich. The expression has changed. It was now face to face with the writer and editor.

“Great. I'll worry about that. Can I listen to the story a little bit? ”

It didn't have to be.

“If you don't mind the plot that might change as you write it. ”

He nodded with a serious face. He cleared his mind for a moment and opened his mouth.

“First of all, love. ”

“Romance novels?”

Nam-Kyung quickly rolled his head. The subject of love has been loved for a long time. It was not surprising to write about accidental love. How about love right here? There is a good chance that the love experienced in that night is pure and beautiful. Him.

is writing a book that will be published for the first time after the Honorary Cannula Award. The reason he was able to go there was that it was deep and heavy content that was not old.

I think I want to see pure love written by coincidence, but given the circumstances, the part he needs to show as a writer now is his unique emotion. The feeling of shining a clean mirror in the back alley of society. Nam-Kyung thought it was a bit dangerous.

“You have a serious face. You don't like the topic of love? ”

“No, I want to be more accurate. ”

He calmed down, raising his glasses. I left in a hurry. I can't say anything about the subject. He looked at the penis and opened his mouth.

“I'm reminded of someone who's in love with insects. ”

“Oh, I see. So it's bright, too? Growing with insects? ”

“No, he swallows worms and goes crazy. ”

“· · · · · · · Yes? ”

He recalled the story he had just made up. A child in distress needed a different place to trap the worm.

“He doesn't want to fall off the worm, so he puts it in a fishbowl and raises it, but it's not an insect's spot. I can't defend it alone. So we're going to keep him in the safest body. to eat.”

Nam-Kyung's expression slowly changed.

“And I forget. ”

Forgetting is liberating. I drew the life of an insect in my head. San. Home. Room. Fishbowl. His body is shrinking. His place pressures him. Narrow is sad. Being locked up is uncomfortable. But it is protected at the same time. Bugs were attacked by all sorts of natural enemies.

Compare the lives of people with the lives of people. And don't resist.

The love he felt was compassion. He lives in a small countryside. Among them, I live in a small house, a small room. It is not acceptable even among the local children. His parents abandoned him. The only contact you can find is a bug from the mountain. And when the bug woke up, Sarah...

He loses. He gets weirder. His parents lock him in the house so that he won't be found out.

He looked troubled. I felt unsure about the work. He spoke nonchalantly.

“He eats insects at night, and the next day he forgets all about it. He doubts who stole it, where it went, and he goes crazy. I'm going to make this a bit blatant. It would be fun to express like a drunk. ”

He weakens. He makes strange cries or crawls on all fours. Nam-Kyung's complexion got worse. It was as dangerous as it was shocking, he said cautiously.

“It's definitely powerful. It's not going to be sublimated. If that's what you want, you can write that. But what about in the real world? No matter how unbalanced the whole thing is, it doesn't matter how dramatic the scene is. Eat a bug, or crawl on all fours.

Don't you think that's a bit overwhelming? I feel like a fool. Let's go to a quiet story. ”

I shaken my head slowly. You don't have to. Rather, you can jump faster. Because.

“It's all about hearing the message. ”

This is the story from her mouth. This is the story of the first person I met. What others say can be futile. Excession or omission is forgiven. It is natural for a story to be distorted and distorted from mouth to mouth. He took a breath. Coincidence

I realized the story I wanted to write at once.

“Framed structure. ”

Nam-Kyung covered his mouth with his hands. That's fine. Frames protect photos. It supports the back of the picture to stand there. The frames in the novel played the same role. The main function of the framed structure was to persuade the story. Somewhere, with insects.

There's a man who's fallen in love and gone crazy. It's acceptable. It's interesting. The more unrealistic it gets, the more it glows. Add the power of coincidence to it.

“Very good. ”

Very good.

Bug on forehead (4) end

lim Han-baek