Great Novelist

He took a cookie off the table. The sweet taste was good with tea. I looked at the square cookies. Unlike its usual appearance, it's delicious.

“Are you angry?”

He breaks the cookie in half. Taylor gave the closest answer. He sees war. A violinist is not the king of a country. There is no definition of saving a country. I'm not a war buff or a dictator. It's just an individual. It tells us what era he's living in. When he first witnessed the war, what emotions did he learn? Various things must have erupted from the stomach.

“Of course I'm angry. ”

You nod, making eye contact with him. I wonder if this is what Santa Claus would feel like. It seemed strange to express the word anger. Unlike sweet Santa Claus.

“Is there any devastation? ”

“There is.”

“Were you overwhelmed? ”

“Yes.”

“Should I grieve?”

“Not at the time. ”

“Are you afraid?”

“I'm scared.”

Nothing to be sad about. Fear comes first. But I wasn't shaking like that.

“Isn't the rest of the tomb overwhelmed? ”

“A little later. You get used to long wars. ”

“He's an emotional man. ”

“Yes, I am easily influenced. When someone gets excited, he gets excited. When he's calm, he's calm. ”

Taylor wrote something briefly on his laptop. He put cookies in his mouth.

“What's your strongest emotion? What do you want to do? ”

You can't list all the feelings of a subdivided person. He lives in Australia. Various emotions rise and fall at once. You need a choice when expressing him in sentences. Omit some and put something in front of it.

“Why.”

Taylor mutters to the violinist. He says in front of the Mountain of the Dead. Why?

“Rage, devastation, overwhelming, fear, fairy tales. How does the violinist get used to saying this in the future? ”

A violinist leaves a myth. It is a great piece that keeps people's mouths shut for a very long time. The first question he had in mind was why conflict arose. He plunges the crumbs from his hands into the air.

“The violinist. ”

Taylor is focused.

“Bad luck. ”

His head shifts slightly.

“I'm unlucky. It's the beginning of bad luck in this age. Maybe I was born human, and maybe I'm unlucky to be the protagonist of my writing. ”

I was born with a gift I couldn't even save. I can't be a violinist on a subject with a big name.

“He's a hero, he wasn't born of eggs, and he's not the king who gave birth to himself. It's an ordinary birth, and I don't even know what it means to stop a war. It's a lot of responsibility. There are two people in the world who fight and two who clean, but if I had to clean up again... ”

I look down at the hot car in the glass.

“I live a life completely different from my own name. ”

“Isn't that something you can say about stepping out of your own destiny? ”

“Yes, I can say that. ”

He simply said yes. Rather, he described it as looking like that.

“I never thought I'd be unlucky to see a violinist. I thought it was the opposite. ”

He looked at the questionnaire in his hand and said,

“You're born in an exhibition, you survive, you're poor, you're talented, you're not a violinist, you know the joy of music. Writing changes people's values. It's a tremendous achievement.Turning a tragic background into my own will not bring me much luck. ”

The opposite interpretation coexists. It's the difference in how you look at it. He knew about it before he wrote it. Then which is the correct answer? I left the answer to the protagonist.

“What matters is how a person judges my life. How do you take it?”

“If you think your life is unhappy, then coincidence will be the answer. ”

How did he take his own life with the war in front of him? While Taylor's thinking about it, Australia cracks the cookie in half.

“I met him in the military. With him.”

“Oh, yes. ”

Taylor, who knew roughly how Australia wrote, realized what it meant.

“When, in what circumstances? What did you think of? ”

“I'm marching. ”

“March?”

“To put it simply, we have a 25kg captain and a 40km finish. ”

“· · · · · · · It's worth meeting. ”

There was rusty metal all over my body. You think of him. The violinist reveals himself with a variety of faces. He stares at the procession without saying anything, sometimes hiding, and sometimes struggling in front of his eyes.

“That must have been hard.”

“I broke all my teeth in the middle. Haha.”

It was the same for violinists. He follows himself to the end, revealing his aggression. He moved the stage. Practice, not training.

“He must have seen a parade across the border. ”

The young violinist raised his pen for the first time.

“He thought about his role and tried to write it down, but it wasn't the writer's face. ”

Place a blood collar around your neck and bite your teeth. It was poisoned.

“Is it affected? ”

“He has good ears. You heard the sound of war more vividly than anyone else. ”

He eventually gave up the record and surrendered himself to emotion. Take it down, smash it. If the seam digs paper, it will calm down a little, but it will excite the road. I can't control my body. He mutters a little.

“Why.”

“A living horse. ”

“That's what I saw. ”

The first thing he learned from war is to live. Taylor empowers his hands and writes down his answers. His expression changes. Taylor loves this moment the most. This heaviness was satiety.

“Then the next question. ”

He put the cookie in his mouth and asked.

“· · · · · · Have a lot of questions? ”

“This should be quick enough. ”

Taylor leans forward. He took the car. I think I'll talk a lot today.

*

“Oh, I spilled it. ”

A 45-year-old Korean living in Paris, France, he was very unlucky today. Starting in the morning, I was stolen, missed, changed, missed the bus, late for work, nagged to my boss, had a motivational and neurotic conversation, and failed to keep my promise to my lover. When I brought my heavy body home, I found traces of glue applied between the door hooks. The painter climbed to the top of his head, lost his mind, kicked down the door, and the landlord found him. And I was about to spill a beer on the rug that I just pulled out to cheer me up.

“Mr. Blessed Father. I'm sorry."

Beer spattered in the fur of his only family, the six-year-old cat. I wiped it quickly with my hands. The Blessed Tail drops below you, then cracks up. I wanted to feel as good as the tail of the Blessed. You sigh and roughly roll the rug on one side.

I looked out the window. It was a dark night. The day is end.But I don't get lucky until the end. A damn day. He does nothing and decides to wait for the end of the day for a new fortune to catch up with him. I don't want anything else to happen today.

“Is there any good news? ”

After 3 minutes, I became bored. He looks around to see if he wants to have a cigarette, then quit. While thinking about it for a moment, I held the phone in my hand. We'll get back to you. It's quiet everywhere. Blessed Father closes his eyes and rolls away a little. I stared at the rug that drank all of my own beer. Nothing has changed. My mind and body are tired. I wanted to ask heaven why this only happened to me. Why?

“The damn world. ”

No answer came back.

“What did I do? ”

No answer came back. Mr. Blessing slapped me on the tail.

“The bicycle thief must be having a happier day than me. ”

That's when the vibration rang. I checked the contents as if they were bouncing. It was a call from a friend in Korea. He answered the phone thinking about Korean perspectives.

“Huh."

I raise my voice as gravely as possible.

“Hey, you hear that? ”

You hear a voice that seems like you don't even care about your own voice. He couldn't take it anymore.

“What. My bike stolen story? ”

“Huh? You lost your bike? ”

“Don't tell me. Listen to how messed up my day was. ”

He spits out an unspoken word. I feel much cooler than smoking a cigarette than drinking beer. My friend accepted it in his own way. However, over a period of time, I silently cut off the horse. I knew it was him. He prefers to speak rather than listen.

“I can make you feel better in one room. ”

“That's funny. ”

I spit it out to my friend. It was just a matter of making your friend feel good about himself at 10,000 times. And it happened a little while ago.

“Listen to me. ”

“You know, coincidence. Coincidence.”

“· · · · · · Why coincidence. ”

I flinched for a moment. Coincidence with no news recently. He's his favorite writer. Thinking about it, he went to the military and nothing worked for two years. I thought I'd come out with the book as soon as I got out, but I don't think I'm going to show my face for months. Only Zara Jenkins was active. His movies were fun. What I did after watching the movie was to spread an original novel. I wanted to read the familiar content again. If there's a new story out there. He smiled and said.

“Is there a new book coming out? ”

“He's getting a new book this time. ”

Your sarcasm overlaps with your friend's. So it was hard to understand. A moment of silence passed. As soon as I understood the contents, I got up. Blessed look at you in surprise.

“Coming out?”

“I told you.”

The voice of a cheerful friend was unfortunate, but I could bear it.

“When? Where? Is it only known in Korea? What book?”

“Ask one question at a time, man. ”

“Tell me quickly. ”

He glances at the clock on the wall. It's past 12: 00. A new day has come. Today is my lucky day. From the beginning, he felt the power rising from his belly. I brought a laptop left on my desk.

“I'm in a frenzy right now. You should go in there and take a look. ”

“I'm keeping my laptop open. ”

I saw it as soon as I went in. Coincidence. The language of God.

“The language of God? ”

“Yes, it's the language of God. ”

“Oh my God."

He went straight to the Korean site. Incidentally, he cheers for the knights he sees right away.

The violinist has good ears (2) Ends

lim Han-baek