Haruki Murakami once wrote:

“And you know, this thought crossed my mind at the time:
maybe chance is a pretty common thing after all. Those
kinds of coincidences are happening all around us, all the time,
but most of them don’t attract our attention and we just let
them go by. 

It’s like fireworks in the daytime. You might
hear a faint sound, but even if you look up at the sky you 
can’t see a thing. But if we’re really hoping something
may come true it may become visible, like a message rising
to the surface. 

Then we’re able to make it out clearly, decipher what it means. 
And seeing it before us we’re surprise and wonder at how strange
things like this can happen.

Even though there’s nothing strange about it.”

∞

The Nakdong River is the longest river in Busan. In fact, if he remembers his primary school teacher’s words properly, it’s also the longest river in South Korea. Although he’s been living in Busan for the last four years, Myungsoo sometimes still finds himself just staring at the expanse, reflecting the grey-colored sky, a momentary stillness broken only by cranes paddling by its banks. He’s never really explored the river, never made the trip to where it comes from and to where it leads to. All his life, the river has always been there — quiet, unassuming but so ingrained into his life that it was hard to imagine home without it.

The wind picks up, and he squints, gazing at the small ripples it leaves on the river’s surface, and for a moment he contemplates if it really did occur or if it was just the result of his sleep-addled mind. The cranes cry out and he snaps out of his stupor, watching one of th