Seokjin: 4 June Year 22

There’s a painting that draws my eye when I enter my father’s study. It’s a picture of a raft precariously floating on top of the surging waves of the open ocean. People thrown away without anything to eat or drink, without a compass or any hope. The thirst and hunger, hatred and fear, horror and desire pushing them to drink each other’s blood, kill each other, and ultimately kill themselves. 

 

When I was younger, this painting scared me so much that I didn’t want to go into my father’s study. I had wondered why father would hang up such an abhorrent painting. However, in time I began to recognize the painting simply as a part of the room, not as an object of worry or fear.          

 

Instead, there was something else to fear. It was the room beyond the door inside my father’s study. There was nothing particularly special about the door or room itself. The door wasn’t locked or anything, and the room was simply an extension of the study. If you were to name anything particularly special about the room, it would be the sheer amount of books. The bookshelves were full of books and materials that my father had collected since high school. I called the room “the inner room.” 

 

The inner room was a place where my father went to think alone or design things. And as such, no one except for my father went inside. I only ever went in one time. Even though I was young, I knew. I knew that the inner room wasn’t simply a place to stack books. The books seemed to be shoved into the shelves at random, and boxes and documents were stacked carelessly. At a glance, it seemed like it was just human. But you couldn’t feel any warmth from the papers, and there were no feelings in the paintings and photographs. Just standing in the center of the room and looking at the bookshelf made me feel an intimidation that seemed like it was going to shatter my entire body.    

 

I don’t remember being scolded for going in that room (it’s possible I could’ve been), but at some point I didn’t dare enter that room. I did go as far as the door a couple of times. However, I only looked up at the door and then turned around. I didn’t even think about turning the handle.

 

@shootinghearts_

 

 

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