“I love you anyway—even if there isn't any me or any love or even any life—
I love you.” 

— Zelda Fitzgerald

 

 

 

part one:

of love and loss and the parts in between

                                                    

 

 

 

 

 

2. TO HONGBIN

[June1966]

 

 

Dearest,

It feels too long since we last spoke, but I know it could not be more than a couple of days since your phone call. I think of you always and because of this, I must write to you now even though I have very little to say. I think of your graduation that is so quickly approaching. I have received your photographs in the mail, and I must say that you look more handsome with each passing day. I'm particularly fond of the photograph of you on the pier. So charming in your Father's suit, it's hard to believe that you have yet to graduate, for you look old enough to face the world. Soon you will be the man you have been so tediously brought up to be and this knowledge overwhelms me with pride and something else. I have not yet figured out what this feeling is, but I know that it is good and lovely—like you. You, who is an inspiration of such talent. I long for the day that I do not have to write to you so often. Do not misunderstand me, my love, for I look forward to your letters and your telegrams. I think of your written words and my heart swoons at the very idea of your letters. But what I mean to say is that I wish to hold you. I count the days until your graduation—twenty more, no more or less—when you will be able to leave for university, bringing you a step closer to the day when you will come with me into the country. To wake up beside you is all that I wish for.

 

I will be there with you no later than the thirtieth and when I see you, I will lift you into my arms and only let go if you so demand it.

 

Yours,

Taekwoon

PS. I have started work on another story. Perhaps this is the one the editors will enjoy enough to publish. We will have to wait and see, but I am wonderfully excited all the same.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3. TO TAEKWOON

[June 1966]

 

I so love it when your sentiment shows, but I have to say that every time it does, my hands begin to tremble. And when I think of how soon I'll be with you, my hands tremble even more. It's awfully embarrassing. Even now, looking at my letter and the way all the words are scrambled together and so, so ugly because I can't stop my fingers from shaking. . . It's terrible and I hate it, but I can't help it. I love you too much so write properly. And don't give me any of that nonsense about loving my awful handwriting, because I won't believe you anyway. But I do believe you when you say that you're proud of me, because I feel proud of myself too. It's too wonderful the things you think of me.

 

Won't you tell me more of this story you're writing? I want to know everything about it. Send me chapters as you write them and show me everything so that I can finally see inside that head of yours. I want an inkling of what goes on in there. Always so quiet and kept to yourself. You must have something wonderful in there. Please don't keep me waiting, it makes me itch having to wait all the time for so many things.

 

 

I love you and I love you and I love you so—

Hongbin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4. TO TAEKWOON

[June 1966]

 

I caught myself dreaming of you. I miss you more than I can say and want nothing more than to have you here with me. Darling, won't you call me sometime? I think of your voice all the time. So soft over the phone line I can never understand you, but how breathless you make me every time. I love you—

 

Hongbin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5. TO TAEKWOON

[June 1966]

 

Darling, I was out by this sea this morning. I stood on the pier and I thought of you—I thought of the first time I ever saw you. I don't know why I did. Something about the waves and the way the tides sound so early in the morning when even the birds are still asleep. It was beautiful and wonderful, but how it made me miss you even more than I had before. I wish you would come sooner.

 

Hongbin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6. TO HONGBIN

[WIRE.

DANYANG COUNTY 22 JUNE 1966 6AM]

DEAREST I WILL ARRIVE AT THE STATION 15 AFTER 17:00 LOVE

TAEKWOON

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7. [From the journal of JUNG TAEKWOON]

written between the weeks of 24 June and 17 July

 

Strange to be nearer the city. It seems there are more people in this singular place than I have seen in all my time, but despite this setback, I am secure in the arms of the beloved and my heart soars higher each day as he grows in intellect and charm. He is wonderful. He is everything. I have grown fond of the sound of water. Back home, where it settles quietly in the night, I often forget the sea exists somewhere beautiful. Here, it is loud and different and I enjoy the way Hongbin smiles when the surf comes in to touch his bare toes.

 

Hot. Summer heat is abysmal and depressing. To live this way is worse than Hell.

 

My darling, my dearest. I woke to-day to an intimacy I have not felt in a very long time; an intimacy shared unlike the others before. I forgot what it meant to be alone with another. So close that it becomes unbelievable that such a closeness could exist. I am in love I am in love I am in love

 

The days are so very long. He grows tired and lonesome. He sulks beneath the morning sun like a child spurned by something. He fears that day I will leave, thought I will not leave for another 15 days. I understand this fear. It seems worse than ignorant to ever leave this place—or to leave him. Is it possible to miss a person before they have gone?

 

I am tired the sea is endless my heart is full.

 

The rain will not stop. It has rained for two days. Hongbin despises it, but demands the windows kept open for the smell of the coming tides. He is a romantic, he simply doesn't know it yet. Graduation in three days. I could weep at how beautifully he has grown.

 

J.T.66

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

8. TO TAEKWOON

[August 1966]

 

At night, when it's dark, I think of you—and when I wake, I think of only you. Time means nothing. I feel tired and cold, always. How do people live apart like this? I refuse to be a burden, so I'll stop. But, tell me, please, all about your book. You told me nothing of it during your visit. Though I will be honest that I didn't care enough to ask about it. I cared only to be near you and the sea and to watch as you stood on the pier when the wind blew salt across your face. I miss the way you would lean out the window in the early morning when the sun had not yet risen and the sea was at an utter calm. When you would stand still as death with a cigarette burning in your mouth. I miss you terribly. I miss you always. It doesn't matter how soon I will see you. Every moment without you is a moment I'd rather forget.

 

Love,

Hongbin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

9. TO HONGBIN

[August 1966]

 

My darling dearest,

I have attached the beginning chapters of the story. I cannot promise that they are any good, but I feel a strange flutter of pride when I think of you reading them. Don't be too kind on me. When you read them, wire me and tell me truthfully what you've thought of it all. I cannot promise that you won't find similarities between this story and ours. As it seems, I cannot write about anything but our love. I write about you often. When I am not dreaming of you, I am thinking of you and when I am not thinking of you, I am writing your legacy in all the blank spaces of my work. I am only warning you, my dear, that you may find the resemblance of the characters and you to be too much. If so, you will let me know, won't you?

 

The summer will be ending soon and this is all I have to look forward to. I am tired of the heat. It makes me sluggish and despondent. I refuse to go outside, but I must. I have returned from the city with a newfound love for the sea and I find myself there, in the surf, more often than not. If I could write and swim all at once, I would. Remind me, darling, that when I come to visit again, I must teach you to swim. You were terribly adorable in the water already, so terrified and clinging to me like a child. Thinking of this now makes me smile, but I promise: I will teach you, so you won't have to fear the water again.

 

I have been amusing myself lately with the thought of our lives together. When I leave the house for my morning walks, I think what it will be like to wander the meadows with you beside me. I think of holding your hand and kissing that place upon your neck that makes you laugh. Then I think of the long, weary winter nights that are to come and how I will hold you when the wind blows very hard and sweeps across the sea so that the night is awfully cold. We will brace ourselves against those cold nights, I am certain, and the winter will melt away in the beauty of spring—and we will spend these months together, all alone. Just us with our aloneness. I will write you love stories and poems that you may carry with you on your morning commute into the world as I stay behind and pen words that will take us through the next years of our lives. It will be wonderful.

 

It is dark out and very late. I won't be able to mail this until morning, but I will think of you until then. My Hongbin, I love you.

 

Taekwoon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10. TO HONGBIN

[August 1966]

 

Dearest,

I have received your letter. It was very short. You said only that you loved me and then did not even sign it. I become so lonesome when you do not write anything. School has begun for you and I can imagine the overwhelming plights of angst that must accompany such a large step. But, remember, I am here. I will always be here and remember that I love you the very most.

 

Taekwoon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

11. TO HONGBIN

[August 1966]

 

Sweetheart, my mother arrived to-day. I was not expecting to see her. I cannot even remember the last time she came this far north, but she enjoys the view of the river from my window. I believe it is the only reason she's bothered to come. She has asked about you. I do not know what to tell her. That you are so very far—still—that I am unsure the time I will see you next—that you have began your very own adventure in life that I must sit out, this far from you? Oh, forgive me. I am lonesome and weary and I think of you too much. My mother has come presumably for something important. She pesters me about “having a talk”, what ever that may mean. But she has not done much talking yet. I will keep you updated, of course, my darling.

 

Taekwoon

PS. Mother asked what day we are to be wed. I could only laugh. Where she comes up with these things, I'll never have the courage to ask.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

12. TO HONGBIN

[WIRE.

DANYAN COUNTY 13 AUGUST 1966 2PM]

FATHER IS VERY ILL AM LEAVING TO THE COUNTRY TO STAY WITH HIM AM THINKING OF YOU ALWAYS LOVE

TAEKWOON

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

13. TO HONGBIN

[WIRE.

MUNGYEONG 13 AUGUST 1966 715PM]

I HAVE ATTACHED THE FORWARDING ADDRESS I WILL BE USING THESE WEEKS WILL SPEAK TO YOU SOON LOVE

TAEKWOON

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

14. TO TAEKWOON

[September 1966]

 

Love, 

I have waited so long to hear from you. I have telegraphed you near daily and all the time they have gone unanswered. I feel trapped, like I have no way of contacting you if ever anything may happen. Or if I may need you. I'm worried, but I trust you and I love you and I know you will write to me soon. I am just lonesome, as you would say—lonesome at night because this school is a nightmare and brings the very worst kind of depression. I can't wait for the day that I can leave. When I can sail to you and never return. I don't know if I want to study art anymore. It seems useless. I ought to go into business as my Father had intended me to and I should have stayed on track instead of demanding my freedom. Do you think so poorly of me now? To have a boy that is uneasy and confused all the time. You are so smart, so set in your ways. You will become the wonderful storyteller that you have always wanted to be. I just know it. It's in the way you piece your words together, how you can turn a simple sentence into a string of words more beautiful than anything hung in the Louvre. You are wonderful. I can only hope to witness this wonder one day very soon. But for now, I do believe I'll drop my artistic studies and go into business. I want to know your opinion, of course, my love, but you are so far now. Farther than you have ever been in all the time I have known you. Do you think of me always as you said you would? Is your Father all right or is his illness drastically worse than you have let on? Won't you be more open with me the next time you telegraph?

 

I have a roommate. He is a very charming boy. His name is Wonsik, but he demands to be called by something else. I can never remember the name he likes, so I don't call him by anything at all. I shout to him whenever I need his attention and he listens right away. Maybe he's the type of person that doesn't really need a name anyway. I think you would like him. He is very strange, but sweet and he has a dog. We ought to get a dog when we live together, love, wouldn't that be fun? We can walk it in the meadows and down to the sea. Or we can own a cat instead. What ever you would like. I only want to have something that is ours and something that we can love and watch grow. It would be almost like having a family, one that is small and quite simple to care for. Because I know that one day you will be famous with your writings and I will be left all alone to tend to the dog, but I don't mind. I will take care of all the things around the house while you write poems more beautiful than the sun and I will listen to you read them in the early mornings when the tide comes in and the sea is threatening to overflow.

 

How I miss you. . . I can't bear to be without you and your words. But I will wait for you patiently and I will check the post daily. I will hope that you can reach me soon, but I will not send any more telegraphs. I can't bear to be told again and again that you have not gone to the post to pick them up. I imagine they are collecting dust somewhere in an old sea-side shake of a post-office. Do not forget to pick them up once you're back home. They are yours to keep for ever.

 

Always,

Hongbin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

15. TO TAEKWOON

[late September 1966]

 

Darling,

I feel adrift in this world without any sign from you. I miss you terribly, so terribly I can't focus on a damn thing.

 

I have remembered the name that Wonsik likes to be called and it is Ravi. Doesn't that mean something in French? I'm sure you know it, being the scholar that you are. Please tell me right away what it means so I may sound as smart as you the next time I see him.

 

I went to the dean this morning and I told him that I could no longer study the arts. He seemed genuinely confused as to why I would switch to a major so completely different. But I promised him I would not fall behind and that even though I would be starting a month later than everyone else, I would pick up the credits easily. I sounded so confident, you should have heard me. . . I'm not really so confident, but I'm happy that I appeared as such anyway. He allowed me to switch my classes. I know I said I would wait for your opinion, but it has been weeks and I must take action before it becomes too late.

 

Hongbin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

16. TO TAEKWOON

[September1966]

 

 

I've become awfully jealous of everyone around me. Even Ravi has someone he goes to in the evenings. Some girl with short hair and a sparkling smile. I see them in the Commons at lunch hour; sometimes in the night, across the fields, where they walk hand in hand—and you know all I can think is how lucky they are. How quite unlucky we are. What a shame it was to fall in love with a hundred miles between us. Every day I wake and I wonder—will I see you again? Will we have a row one evening and that will be all? Will you become bored and upset and move on while I await you here, so far from you, where the sea meets the land—somewhere you—totally and completely—are not.

 

My Taekwoon, my birthday will pass in two short days and I know in my heart that I will not hear from you. I can tell that it will be a long time before a letter comes for me. But how long, I wonder? What is happening that you feel you cannot tell me? I am upset, but I am not angry and I love you still—love you just the same if not more with every passing day. But I must know, my love, what you are going through. Don't leave me in the dark. There is not reason to handle things so lonesomely.

 

All my love, darling one

Hongbin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

17. TO TAEKWOON

[October 1966]

 

My love,

I will not send any more letters until I have heard from you. It hurts to receive nothing in return—to wonder too often what you must be doing. But I am thinking of you always.

 

Hongbin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

18. [WIRE.

MUNGYEONG 20 OCTOBER 440AM]

MY BELOVED I KNOW NOTHING OF WHAT TO SAY OTHER THAN I AM SORRY SO TERRIFICALLY SORRY I WILL BE AT THE UNVERSITY THIS EVENING AWAIT ME AND I WILL COME I HAVE THOUGHT OF NOTHING BUT YOU AND YOU ONLY ALWAYS BELIEVE ME I WILL COME AND MAKE IT ALL BETTER LOVE

TAEKWOON

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

19. [From the journal of JUNG TAEKWOON—unsent letters]

[early September 1966]

 

 

I cannot begin to fathom what has happened in these passing weeks. I cannot say aloud what it is I am feeling nor bear to think it all. Forgive me, won't you, that I have sent only the one telegram since my arrival here. That I have not reached out to you the way my heart so demands. I miss you in a way that I have not yet known—and I wish to never endure again—but you must understand, my love, that my Father is sick. He is more ill than he had led me to believe—much more ill than my Mother dared tell me on the trip into the country. The doctor says such things: that he may live until the end of the year, perhaps even later if we are lucky! But the doctor does not watch my Father every second of every day as I have been required to. I can see that he is unfit and unwell and that there may be nothing in the world to keep him going until the holidays. It is a ghastly thing to think about and I wish that I did not have to! I wish I could fly away to Donghae and hold you close for ever. I want to have your body near mine; I want to feel your small hand within my grasp; I wish to kiss you the way I kissed you on the pier in the summer when the world was not so ugly.

 

Darling, please understand my silence. I cannot bear anything in this world right now. Difficult enough to wake each morning, I am burdened by the sickness in my Father's eyes and the unrelenting reality that there is nothing I can do to fix it.

 

I have started to think so often of you—more than what I have deemed ordinary. I think of you from when I wake to when I sleep and every second in between. I have caught myself countless times thinking of the first time I saw you at your Father's garden party. How extravagant you had looked in your darling blue suit standing beside the ferns in spring time. Your beauty was unrivaled and my heart was yours from that very moment. But I think of this time and how beautiful it had been—how, as I had paced the knoll aside your Father's estate, that you had seen me and seen through me and beyond me and had believed me to be a person you wanted to know, dearly—and then I think of my father wasting away in his bed. My Mother never speaks. I think of our lives and what they will be like when illness strikes us. When age brings sorrow the world has prepared us for, but a sorrow we will never accept readily.

 

I have gone and upset myself. The tears on the paper are sore reminders that I do not believe death is something I could ever accept. It is unjust. It is heart-rendering. I wonder of the day I will lose you, for you may be mine for now but never will you be mine for ever, and I do not believe I could ever survive such a reality.

 

I have decided I will not send this letter. I am patronized by its weakness. But I am mad about you—utterly mad. It is because of this I cannot speak to you yet.

 

 

                    

                    

 

 

[early September 1966]

 

Your letters come and I cannot bring myself to read them, for I miss you too much and my heart is too weak to face you yet. I hope that you know that I love you so, so endlessly. I will love you for ever—I promise you this.

 

 

                    

                    

 

 

[September 1966]

 

The cold is settling in on the mountains and the air is too startling to keep the windows open. I stand beside them in the morning as the grey light filters in, feeling morose and depressed and wondering when my life had become so unordinary. I think of you always. Your letters lay in a pile on my bedside table. I will open them soon, when I am ready.

 

 

                    

                    

 

 

[October 1966]

 

I have picked up your telegrams. Darling, why do you worry so much over the rain? Why does it make you sad? I find it beautiful, as beautiful as you. Perhaps it is because your beauty is rivaled by it that you do not like it— I am only teasing, of course.

 

How I love you.

 

 

                    

                    

 

 

[October 1966]

 

The doctor has finalized it. My Father will not make it through the winter. Do you think there is a God somewhere in the world? If so, he is awfully cruel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

part two:

the stars align like fate in a dark sky

                                            

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

20. TO TAEKWOON

[May 1967]

 

sent following publication of Taekwoon's debut novel

My sweetheart, I picked up the morning paper from the shop across town. You wouldn't believe what I found in there! An article about your book! It wasn't a very long article, but short and sweet and directly to the point. I know it must be selling well. You tell me all the time never to worry about numbers, but dear, I want to know. How many copies have the stores sold altogether? Do they tell you such things? If they don't, they surely must. You have a right to know! And a right to share this information with me. I saw your name in the newsprint and all I could think was: I'm going to marry this man. This wonderful, brilliant man. They used such a charming photograph too. I can't keep from smiling, it makes me so proud, so I've clipped the article and encased it in this letter. Keep it for ever so we may look back on it in years and think of this moment—or, I suppose, I will think of this moment and remember the day that I found you in a newspaper right outside my bedroom.

 

I can't begin to explain how proud I am of you, my love. I think of you locked away in your study all day and all night, writing all the ink out of your pens, not thinking of anything in this world but me. It makes my heart ache in ways I can't begin to understand. You've finally done it, my love, and you've to be proud of yourself for all of time from this moment on.

 

Hongbin

PS. Do you remember last month when we went to the pier and watched the boats? You recited a poem to me, but I can't remember what it was. Do you, perhaps? It was about the sea. That is all I can remember and I remember only because the sea makes me dream of you. Every time I see the rising waters, I think of you standing there in the coming tides, kicking the waves out to sea as if wanting to kick them away altogether. I do love you, I love you endlessly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

21. TO TAEKWOON

[May 1967]

 

I've stolen away to my room. I have exams all month, but here I am, at my desk, writing to you because it is terribly cold here. In all the rooms and all the buildings, it's like the coming of winter. I've caught a head cold and I'm almost sure it's because of these damned temperatures. It's been so long since I last saw Ravi. I don't wonder where he's taken off to, but I envy that he has a place to go at all. Darling, I love you, you know. I was about to fall into bed and take an early nap to catch my head. It's been running so. Filled with daydreams of you so like whirlwinds that infect me all hours of the day. My mind ventures to places that embarrass me, but leave me excited too. I think of you at night—all the time, of course, but lately—always at night. I miss those warm evenings in the summer when you would hold me and the room would be stifling. And those days in the winter time, after all the bad times had finally blown by like seedlings in the wind—how you would keep me warm with your hands. I miss you so much, I wish to kiss you all over so that I can see the way your cheeks blush. Think of me to-night; I will think of you.

 

Hongbin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

22. TO TAEKWOON

[May 1967]

 

I felt so scandalized by my last letter. I thought I would have embarrassed you greatly speaking so boldly about our aloneness. But I could hardly read the letter you sent in return—how is it you work so beautifully with words that you can string them together and make something so filthy into something beautiful? You're terrible and I love you. Never send me anything like that again, I'm afraid you'll ruin me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

23. TO HONGBIN

[May 1967]

 

Dearest,

I've attached the poem you asked for, my darling dearest. I imagine you in your room with this poem taped above your head and all your dreams as beautiful as these words. Perhaps one day I will write you something as wonderful as this.

 

I love you my boy, love you to pieces—

Taekwoon

PS. I will stop from embarrassing you again, my love, but I must say your reaction is terribly entertaining.

 

[ATTACHED TO THE LETTER IS THE FOLLOWING POEM:

 

Annabel Lee by Edgar Allen Poe]

                                  It was many and many a year ago,

                                        In a kingdom by the sea,

                                  That a maiden there lived whom you may know

                                           By the name of Annabel Lee;

                                  And this maiden she lived with no other thought

                                               Than to love and be loved by me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

24. TO HONGBIN

[WIRE.

DANYAN COUNTY 23 MAY 1967 1125AM]

BOOK SELLING WELL ORDERED ANOTHER 200 PRINTS FOR THE LOCAL SHOPS TALKING WITH PUBLISHER ABOUT EUROPEAN BOOK TOUR COULD BE INTERESTING KEEP YOU UPDATED LOVE

TAEKWOON

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

25. TO HONGBIN

[WIRE.

DANYANG COUNTY 27 MAY 225PM]

WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON PARIS LOVE

TAEKWOON

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

26. TO TAEKWOON

[May 1967]

 

Love,

I've been so busy these days because of my exams. It's unnerving and so dramatic. Waking up with a fit every morning, because I've to be up an hour earlier to make sure I can study before the tests. I despise it! I really don't think I'm made for this kind of life. I want only to see you and be with you and spend my life devoting all good things to you, my love.

 

I did just as I said I would and put the poem beside my bed. I orchestrated it handsomely alongside the candelabra you bought me last year. It's very fancy. It's almost a shame that I'll be leaving this room in a few short weeks. It's almost as if it's starting to feel like home—finally. Oh, but don't worry. I'm more than excited to leave for two whole months. I can't wait to be back home with my parents—and of course, nearer to you. I will visit you just as soon as I can and spend all my time and all my days with you. Oh, all of this—it has started me thinking, darling. The poem and your novel and all the promises of our future together, well. . . Do you think it possible that one day, in the future—but not very far in the future, darling, I don't want to be ghastly old—that you and I could live near the sea? The real sea. Not the little thing outside our windows. But somewhere beautiful where the sky is always white and we can walk to the shore and stand in the tides until the fishing boats return home? Wouldn't that be a lovely thing, Taekwoon? I daydream too often, I know it, but I can't picture us anywhere else in the world but right there by the sea, swallowed up in the surf and the tides. Think about it, won't you? Then promise me that our lives will be as dramatic as something by Emily Bronte. It's a little silly when I think too much about it. Can you imagine yourself as Heathcliff? Oh. . . I only mean don't let us be ordinary, my love, promise me we won't be ordinary. Then tell me you love me, because I love you—so much.

 

Hongbin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

27. TO TAEKWOON

[June 1967]

 

Can you believe it, darling? I will be home with you in only 10 days! I will only have to wake up alone 10 more times. I will eat and sleep and dream and then I will be with you, so soon. We can talk of Paris then. I will certainly have to brush up on my French. You've only taught me a few words. Surely, not enough to wander the streets of France alone. Yes, we'll discuss it and talk of all the things we haven't been able to since last I saw you—so, so long ago.

 

I will sleep now and dream of you

Hongbin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

28. TO HONGBIN

[June 1967]

 

Dearest,

You are terrifically silly. Heathcliff was something of an , wasn't he? I can't remember. I don't think I ever finished that horrid novel what ever it was called. But never worry, my love, we will live extraordinarily by the sea; I do promise you this. I don't care where in the world we go—we can go anywhere you want to be. So long as I am with you, I will be happy.

 

You brought up marriage not very long ago, my dear. I can't remember if it was the first time you ever spoke of it, but to-day. . . I realized to-day that I will marry you one day. Not soon, but one day, I'm sure of it. Perhaps after we are very old and cannot remember many things anymore. When we have only these letters to recall what we had before—I will ask for your hand then, so that maybe we will remember a little bit of our lives together. At least for that one, very special moment. And  I'll love you for as long as the sky is blue and the stars burn brightly at night. After the world ends, my dear, I will love you even then.

 

Taekwoon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

29. TO TAEKWOON

[WIRE.

DONGHAE CITY 9 JUNE 1967 950AM]

I OPENED YOUR LETTER AND FLOWERS POURED OUT YOU FOOLISH MAN I LOVE YOU

HONGBIN

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

30. TO TAEKWOON

[June 1967]

 

Love,

I'm home but you're not here and because of that I dread being here. I so hate it when I miss you as much as I am missing you now, because I know that if I ask you to, you will come to me quickly. But I can't ask anything of you now. You're so busy with your publishing parties and meeting all the people you've changed with your words. I'm not upset, my love, only lonesome, as you would say. I wish to be selfish and to tell you to come to me, come to me now, so that you can hold me and kiss me the way you always do. Why does it feel like I haven't seen you in years? I find you in the newspapers all the time now, and am able to see you this way—but when will you kiss me again? I've become so uselessly demanding in your absence. Maybe my heart is growing and filling fuller with love for you. It's the only explanation I can think of.

 

I had a bit of an adventure to-day. Ravi came for a visit and together we went out on the town where the summer festivals are starting. All you could hear was the brass music of all the big bands in the heart of the city. It was like the air was simply filled with those big, brassy sounds. They're quite ugly when alone, but to-day they sounded especially nice. And the hours are long this time of year that Ravi and I stayed for quite a while. We had dinner by the sea—a little shack restaurant where one can eat all the food they want without worrying about the cost. It was very lovely. But it made me miss you even more.

 

Always,

Hongbin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

31. TO TAEKWOON

[June 1967]

 

Dear Love,

These days are such a bore—a damned bore that I can't bring myself to leave bed for more than a minute. Mother asks me constantly if I've caught the flu or a head cold. I tell her no, it must just be the mean ol' reds. Or maybe the blues. It's just that I miss you so much. I came home yesterday with the thoughts of a letter from you, but I haven't heard from you in so long—or it seems this way. Over a week, which may not be very long to others, but I'm so used to your letters coming near daily, or telegrams from you to start my mornings off fresh. But you've been so silent these days. I know that you're busy and if writing is such a hassle now, we don't have to write any longer. I will happily wait for you to come back from your busy schedule to sweep me away as you do constantly. But if this is so, please tell me. I know we spoke of seeing one another in late June, but late June is approaching and you are nowhere to be found.

 

I have to remind you again, my love, that I am so very proud of you—incredibly proud of you—and knowing that you are such a wonder keeps my heart beating day after day.

 

Think of me always, won't you? Promise me you will

 

Hongbin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

32. TO TAEKWOON

[June 1967]

 

I was out with Ravi again to-day by the shore and we found a couple seashells that seem so strange—like they aren't quite real. So I've sent you a few in hopes that you will remember the summers we've spent here and come to me again soon.

 

Hongbin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

33. TO HONGBIN

[WIRE.

DANYANG COUNTY 25 JUNE 1967 1200PM]

MY DARLING I HAVE SPOKE WITH MY PUBLISHERS AND THEY HAVE AGREED TO FUND MY NEXT STORY I WILL WRITE YOU THIS WEEK-END PLEASE FORGIVE MY ABSENCE LOVE

TAEKWOON

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

34. TO HONGBIN

[DANYANG COUNTY 30 JUNE 1967 6PM]

I WILL BE ON THE FIRST TRAIN TO DONGHAE CITY COME MORNING WAIT FOR ME BELOVED

TAEKWOON

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

35. TO HONGBIN

[late August 1967]

 

My darling dearest,

It is only now as I write this—hours before I am to board the flight to France without you—that I begin to wonder why I am going at all. We had planned so much, my dear, and I'm regretful that the date of my tour has fallen on the beginning of your semester. I will miss you greatly. I know that two months away will be nothing compared to the years we have lived apart, but to be so far. . . It was bearable before. I could wake and know that I was not too far from you, but now you will be light-years away, off in an abysmal starlit sky so far from me. And I will be in Hell without you. I will think of you every hour of every day, as I sign books and meet with the publishers, I will think of you and nothing else.

 

I have not been writing as well as I had hoped to. It feels as if I've devoted my life to this one book and I am unable to venture past the first thirty pages. It is a damning feeling. Perhaps I only had one good book within me and from now I will not prosper again—I will be alone in another country without my beloved, forced to write of characters I can no longer see as vividly as before. Darling, I'm afraid I shouldn't go. I do not like the feeling of going. But I suppose I must. If not for myself, then for those that are expecting me.

 

Dear, you tell me all the time to say that I love you—but right now, I must ask this of you: tell me that you will love me always, that though I am leaving when neither of us want me to go, you still love and adore me as you had before. That you want to spend your life with me. Tell me everything in your heart and in your head. Let me be a part of it all.

 

I'm afraid I can only send you the emergency address of my publishing team that will be in Paris with me. You may write, but do so sparingly, for I'd hate for them to be angered.

C/O J.T
557 N. 116 ST SUITE 5 PARIS
FRANCE

 

All my love,

Taekwoon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Following Taekwoon's departure to France and combined with the lack of correspondence in his absence, Hongbin had fallen ill with anxiety. Heeding Taekwoon's warnings to write sparingly, Hongbin wrote daily and attached each letter to one large envelope to be sent bi-monthly. These letters went unanswered for all the time Taekwoon was away. Upon return in the late autumn of 1967, Taekwoon was hounded by publishers to finish work on his second novel Love Out Of Lust. Due to his failure to produce more than 50% of the book by October 1967, Hollym Publishing threatened to pull funding. Because of this, Taekwoon and Hongbin's correspondence failed rapidly, leaving either man estranged as Taekwoon worked to finish the book. Meanwhile, Hongbin unsuccessfully attended university into the autumn until late October when he decided to drop-out and begin work at his Father's firm in Ansan City.]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

36. TO HONGBIN

[late November 1967]

 

Dearest,

I write to you with profound regret pooling inside of me. I have reminisced time and time again of our past summers spent together and I think of all the time we had then—and all the time we no longer are in hold of. I cannot find enough hours in the day to even think of you as often as I so badly want to. My darling, darling one. It feels hard to believe that this time one year ago you were beside me, holding me, when the worst had come. Now we stand worlds apart and you are nowhere in sight as I have been gone from you for far too long. You know I will be moving from the country soon, farther North toward the big cities where I will finish this dreadful book. As I was moving house to-day, packing up old belongings, I found your letters all across the rooms and the halls, tucked between books I have not touched in months. Some are dated as far back as '64. When I saw these dates, I nearly collapsed at the sheer thought of you writing to me from the dark of your bedroom, days after we had met. There was a line among these old letters from old you that came alive in a new light as I read them this time; you wrote: Taekwoon, every time I think of your face and the way you looked there, out by the trees, all alone like some pariah left on the outskirts of the party, I get warm on the inside and I wonder for how long you had stood there looking at me without my knowing. You are a silly one, aren't you? I wonder if you will always be so silly and dreamy and lost in that head of yours. I guess only time will tell, my lovely silly one.

 

Do you remember writing this, my dear? Do you remember the way you felt on that after-noon in May when you were just sixteen? I can never forget how handsome you looked nor what it was like to catch the corner of your eye at the exact moment you caught mine. It was like staring out across a great nothingness—all dark and black and terribly unnerving—into the light of your face, into a great something. I'll never forget it, my love, and I hope that you won't ever forget either. These months have been some of the hardest I have endured in a long while; and I imagine that you are feeling much the same. But please, if you can, remember those times we had together and do not let them go, for I am here—as I have said before; I will be here, always. Even if I am not within sight. Even if I have fallen away, far out of hands reach, know I am still here in the dark, waiting for you.

 

I worry about you and your silences. I worry that the reason you have left school is because your heart has grown too heavy for you to carry. I refuse to begrudge you or to dictate what you do in life, so I will not pester you much about it—but know that you may speak to me about anything you may hold in your heart. I do believe in you much more than I can believe in myself and I feel as if this time away from all the worries of studies, to be away in the city where the world moves quickly and with vigor, you may find the inspiration you seemed to have lost. You asked me before my opinion on changing the course of your studies. I know it was my own fault for having not responded when I should have and by doing so, was unable to tell you I did not quite agree with this decision. Your art has always been lovely and one of the many things I love about you. To see you have given it up for something you could not bring yourself to finish hurts me in ways I have yet to understand. But this is not about me. I only want to tell you that I believe you ought to go back to school, but not for the sake of business. Return to your first passions and see where they may lead you now.

 

Always with love,

Taekwoon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

37. TO HONGBIN

[December 1967]

 

Dearest Hongbin,

The cold has set in. Why is it always in the desolate winter months of the year that one feels so utterly, utterly old? My bones ache as does my heart when I think of you. I suppose I ought to tell you that I've finished this horrid book. Horrid only because I think of all the time I have put into it; time and so many other things that I seem unable to regain. I miss your letters dearly and wish to hear from you soon. But I have to say: there is not very much I have to say at all. I have been staring down at this paper as if willing words to appear on their own, wracking my brain for signs of life that aren't there. Perhaps this book has left me drained and empty and I shall never be filled again. Forgive me if I become somber and quiet. These days will carry a lot of press—much more than I would like to endure, but it is all part of the plan, I suppose. Some glorious, wonderful plan that neither of us have any say in anymore.

 

I will think of you always.

 

Taekwoon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

38. TO HONGBIN

[WIRE.

WONJU CITY 2 JANUARY 1968]

I HAVE SENT AN EARLY EDITION OF LOVE OUT OF LUST BY PARCEL POST EXPECT SOON LOVE

TAEKWOON

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

39. TO TAEKWOON

[February 1968]

 

How wonderful it was to see your picture in the newspapers again. And to think it was a photograph I haven't seen before! You look very handsome, my love, and very healthy. Except for the eyes, of course. They were tired and a little sad. Try to smile brighter next time.

 

Thinking of you,

Hongbin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

40. TO TAEKWOON

[March 1968]

 

Love,

I know you don't mean to nag so much and that you piece your words together thoughtfully as not to be a burden to anyone, but I must tell you please, don't worry too much about me anymore. I have decided already not to return to school, so it would be best if we never speak of it again. Perhaps when I'm old and lonely, I will go back for the company of others. But for now I am pleased to be working in the city where I never have to spend too long alone with myself. I wonder when you will finally come to visit. I always thought you might soon. But with the release of your new book, it may be a while before I see you again. It has already been so long that I no longer remember how long exactly. Still, I'll wait for you. Until the end of the earth, I will wait.

 

Hongbin

 

PS. I'm afraid Mother isn't doing very well these days. She's tired all the time and growing ill. It's possible old age is catching up with her, but it's a shame to see her so frail. I think I'll take some time off work and visit her back in Donghae. If you're in town, give me a call.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[When Taekwoon received Hongbin's letter in March of 1968, he did not know it would be the last real letter Hongbin was to send for the entirety of the year. Due to his Mother's failing health, Hongbin would resort to phone calls and the occasional telegram to keep in touch. Taekwoon would write in earnest throughout the summer and later receive word by phone of Hongbin's troubles. It would be then the two men would decide to part ways for the time being, able then to focus on their own worries. Following the release of Love Out Of Lust, Taekwoon later took it upon himself to move to Portugal for a year with neither a forwarding address nor a notice of leave to his Mother. For the next year Taekwoon would immerse himself in his work and produce two full-length novels that Hollym Publishing would later buy at the price of one million won apiece. During this time, he would send Hongbin a total of twenty-three letters, averaging two letters a month. In return, Hongbin sent a total of 166 letters, each one hopeful for their future together. But it would not be until the autumn of 1969 that the two would meet again.]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

41. TO HONGBIN

[September 1969]

 

last record of correspondence

Dearest Hongbin,

I am rushing to write this before I am to be at the post. I've finished my latest collection of short stories that Hollym has so generously purchased and I must send it off soon. I haven't the slightest if it will sell well, but I do hope so, so that I may have some time off in the coming months. Perhaps for the rest of the year.

 

Darling, I have a room here, where I am. One with a view of the sea and the cobbled roads that spread out infinitely long throughout this small, charming city. The wind blows through the open windows at night and brings with it the smell of the sea and the sand and the smell does linger for a long time after I've closed up all the rooms. This place is much better than all the places I've been before. Better than home. But I miss you, my love, and I think of you always, constantly; never is there a moment that I do not envision what life would be like if you were to be here with me. It seemed so impossible before, when we were younger, when school still called to you and it was as if the universe was so blatantly against our being together. It felt, for so long, that nothing would survive these years. That in the end, I would be here beside myself, alone for ever wondering if there was anything different we could have done. But darling, listen—I'm tired, so tired, of waiting. I think of all the things that should be ours. To wake in the morning and sit beside you at the dining table. To hold your hand when the rain falls and it is too cold to leave the apartment. I want to wake up beside you every morning until the world ends and even then, my dear, I want to be with you. It hurts me to be without you. I think of all the precious moments in our lives that should be mine: your smile in the mornings and your kisses before bed. It should be my shoulder you lay your head upon when you are tired and my hand that you hold in the night-time when the world is too dark for comfort. It seems that our lives, however entangled they are now and have been before, have never fully started. I want to hear your heart beat and the softness of your breath when I kiss your fingers and the way you tremble when the sea brushes your ankles.

 

Love, what I am saying is simple. If you are ready and if your heart so allows it, if you think you could be happy here with me and all the world at our feet, I urge you to take the soonest flight to Lisbon that you can find. I've enclosed a money order of ₩500000. It should be enough for airfare and all the amenities you may need along the way.  There is also a paper with the address of this apartment where I hope my room with a view will then become ours. Come to me, my love, and come quickly, if you can. But if you decide against your coming here, I'll understand as I have understood all these years. I will stand beside you without qualm, my dear. But I will then be able to say that I have tried as best I can. Think about it if you must, but only respond if you decide to not come. If I do not hear from you soon, then I will know and I will wait until I see you again.

 

 

 

All my love,

Taekwoon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

part three:

hymn to the sea

                      

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was late evening on the fifteenth of September when a white taxi pulled up to the curb outside a cafe in Lisbon. There worked a woman who watched curiously as the cab opened up and a young man stepped out, holding a tired suitcase close to his side. He was a slight and tall boy, but small in ways that bewildered her. It was as if any moment he may topple over beneath the weight of the sky itself.

 

“I'm looking for someone,” he said to her when, after paying the driver, he came into the cafe with dark eyes large and confounded. His English was poor, but she understood well enough; and upon taking a paper the boy offered her, she pointed to the winding stairs at the far corner of the cafe.

 

“Up there,” she told him.

 

He thanked her. But it was a long time still before he abandoned the counter toward the stairs, taking each step slowly as if the world was weighing him down. She watched him go with a perplexity that faded quickly. Twenty minutes later it was as if he had never come through her cafe at all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Upstairs, Hongbin touched a hand against a closed door. It was one of three apartments hidden away from the rest of the city, as if the building held secrets from the world. He touched the door with his hand and then his head as he lay his brow against the peeling frame, breathing in the smell of sandalwood. His heart beat rapidly as love and fear and the anxieties therein poured into him like an island among streams. He shivered and shivered badly, but opened the door all the same, his grip tightening at the flickering sunlight inside; the pale green of the walls and the scent of the sea stronger here than the room downstairs for it was locked between all the closed windows like the ghost touch of something gone.

 

“Taekwoonie?” he called. He shouldered out of his jacket, laying it over the back of a dining chair, then called again. He called as he walked the rooms finding only solidarity in return.

 

“You cannot tell me to come and then not be here,” he whispered. But how fine it felt to be where he was. To stand by the balcony window where the curtains blew sheer and lovely against the greying of the sky and to see the sea glistening like something precious. Hongbin felt his heart rise up inside him where it tickled and pressed hard against the inside of his throat. Emotion sprang inside him as he first opened the balcony door then leaned his cheek against the frame, able then to stand without trembling as he stared out over the cobbled roads below.

 

When the apartment door came open again, not more than a moment later, Hongbin did not stir and he did not look back; for he knew it could only be but one person. But the silence that ensued was unnerving. The wind came striking against his flushed face as hands touched his sides, a mouth pressed against the top of his spine.

 

“The woman downstairs said I had a visitor.”

 

“And did you know it was me?” Hongbin smiled.

 

“Of course I knew.”

 

“Of course he knew.” Hongbin turned then, biting his lower lip as Taekwoon rest his nose against the softness of his cheek. “It's lovely here.”

 

“I knew you would like it.”

 

“Oh, I more than like it, Taekwoonie.” With a great sigh, Hongbin turned back toward the balcony, looking out past the buildings and the burning of the sun, out toward the sea that was like a large blanket of down; soft and infinitesimal against the darkening night. He said: “When you told me about this place, I had pictured so much. But I hadn't thought—not really—that it would be everything you had said.”

 

“Do you think you'll be happy here?”

 

“I think so, yes.”

 

“And if you ever feel unhappy?”

 

“I'll tell you so.” Hongbin turned in Taekwoon's arms with his head tilted back and his tired eyes delicately closed. “I'll tell you all the things that cross my mind and never keep a secret from you.”

 

“I can't ask that of you.”

 

“You don't have to.” He pressed his cheek to Taekwoon's cheek and put his arms around his neck. He held and was held in return, feeling the warmth of the evening light touch his back. But dwarfed was it by the heat of Taekwoon's hands as he cradled him.

 

“And did the publishers like your story?” Hongbin asked.

 

“Yes,” was Taekwoon's whispered response.

 

“And will they give you time to yourself now?”

 

“All the time in the world.”

 

“And all that time, Taekwoonie?”

 

“Is yours.”

 

“No,” laughed Hongbin. “I mean, how much time? And will you go away again? What will I do when I'm here all alone?”

 

Taekwoon pulled Hongbin from the balcony and into the bedroom where the sunlight burned a deep gold. It filled the room with a warmth the rest of the apartment lacked; full with the smell of Taekwoon, of dust and vanilla and the smell of old paper.

 

“You won't be alone again,” said Taekwoon as he laid Hongbin down on the bed. With his head rested against the rise and fall of Hongbin's chest, he said: “I'll work from home and leave only if I absolutely must, and even then, perhaps I won't leave at all.” He pressed his face against Hongbin's chest, breathing in as he spoke: “I only want you happy.”

 

“Is that all you want?”

 

“The only thing in the world.”

 

“You're a fool, Taekwoon,” Hongbin whispered. He pulled Taekwoon's face close to his own, mouth pressed against his cheek: “But a lovely one. Now—” He sat up with his legs folded beneath himself as the sun fell away from the sky, leaving only night behind so that the light from the moon shined brighter than all the light of the day.

 

“Tell me everything that you have done while away from me and tell me all the things you wanted to do, but didn't. And I'll piece all of it together so it will be like I was there all along.”

 

Taekwoon smiled and his mouth trembled, but his voice was even—melodic and wonderful, Hongbin thought, more wonderful than all the times he had heard it before, because now he could hear it for all the time until eternity. And even then, he thought—when the world had ended and there was only dark—he would hear it—even then. He was sure.