Light—a symbol of hope; a gift of the purest kind. It shone endlessly, fairly, on everything and anything. No matter where it was—behind a rock, perched on a branch, or seated on a bench overseeing the Han River—the rays of never-ending light would be able to reach it, because the earth moves, the sun moves. How poetic it was to know that light shone on all, and therefore, neither his, hers, but everyone’s.

Snap. Click.

Nothing was as versatile as hope—as mobile as light. It can’t penetrate through solid walls, but it can find the smallest of cracks, exploit it, and continue its journey. The rest of the world can fortify the sturdiest of barricades, where pores and cracks do not exist, and attempt to hide away from the healing grace, and they could succeed. However—

Snap. Twist. Click. Click.

Light—hope—would be just on the other side, waiting. Watching over you.

Click. Click. Click.

Light would always be present, always shining, always—

Click. Click. Cli—

Jung Yunho looked through the viewfinder and frowned, moving his head to gaze at the vanished sun. The sky looming over the beautiful river was now a deep, dark blue, and the reflections of colorful light danced on the surface of the water. As he watched the colors blend and sway, he looked at the sky longingly, sadly, and sighed before taking the strap off his neck and the DSLR into the camera bag. He turned to smile at the sky, as if to thank it, before walking away, fading, disappearing. But he would return another day.

Just like light.