Kim Youngjae

15 years old.

An ordinary boy, with an ordinary life.

I lived with my mother and a little brother, somewhere in the middle of one of South Korea’s second largest metropolis city, Busan.

I’ve never met my father, though.

I don’t even know his name.

One day, my Mom told me that he left us back then, when he was still expecting my brother, Junhong. While his reason to leave us, remain unknown, I was wondering myself, why can’t I ever remember him at all?

But then again, what can you expect from a two year old’s memory?

Even if it yours.

But even if I didn’t know him at all, I loved him.

And my hopes goes somewhere between suddenly meeting him somewhere or even if I can just take a look at his long gone pictures, even for once in a lifetime.

This is my story.

Although it’s not a necessarily happy one, I valued life.