There’s a girl. And there’s a void. And there’s longing, anchored within. Saudade is one word for it, the Portuguese’s attempt to describe it. That term has no direct translation in English.

He can’t breathe. He chokes. He chokes. Water in his eyes, in his nose, in his mouth. In his lungs. In a fuzzy blur, he thinks he can recognize Seungri’s voice screaming his name, somewhere in the distance. Is this the end?

  And so I write. Ugly words and hurt feelings, ink on paper. My heart at my throat, I’ll throw up. I’ll puke and it’ll be messy. My chest stomped on, because I think he doesn’t love me anymore. I’m too much of a coward to ask if he does.

Jiyong sleeps. He dreams. Gri (Jiyong centric).

A snapshot at their relationship, the way they feel and the way it goes.  

Try this, watch Seungri, watch Jiyong...and you'll see.