Young-ha Kim

Is this like life? K wonders. My hand is already determined from the beginning. My hand in life is probably something worthless, like three kkeut.

But isn’t all art a filter for reality? Drawings or sculpture change reality in some way and make it more real. You could say art is a reflection of reality.

Cruelty breeds a secret pleasure.

I was forty-five at the time of my last murder. Looking back, it dawns on me that my father was also forty-five the year he suffocated under the pillow. What a strange coincidence. I’m writing this down, too.

Abiding nowhere, give rise to the mind.”

So, in the emptiness, no form,

No feeling, thought, or choice,

Nor is there consciousness.

No eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, mind.

“We trouble life by the care of death, and death by the care of life.”

I drizzle the pan with oil

. The bumper was dented.

My name is Kim Byeongsu. I turned seventy this year.