I don't know how I've been writing travel essays for 9 years now.
I often hear that the author's note at the end of a novel is more interesting, so I thought I could write an essay, but it was different from what I expected.
Time passed as I wrote and stopped, wrote and erased, wrote and revised.
These records of past travels seem to focus more on the things accumulated internally while traveling than on the travel itself.
I wanted to filter through my mind the moments that felt more like stories than stories, the ones I encountered while traveling far away to meet my favorite friends.

--- p.8

Anyway, I wanted to see a lot, so I flew to New York without really enjoying the trip.
If they were just close friends, they would have made excuses and not gone, but when you like someone, you definitely end up being pushy.
Couldn't the measure of a person's affection be determined by how much they push themselves? It was May 2012.
I am still writing the essay I started writing then.
What is this?
Thanks to this, time piled up like a crepe cake, making the writing even more peculiar.

--- p.12~13

What I didn't know when I was twenty-nine, I know now.
It was because of love.
Even though it only sold a thousand copies, there were still readers who strongly supported it.
People who have told me that I am their favorite author since I only had a few short stories and no books… … .
The love between a reader and a writer was unlike any love in the world.
Sometimes it's a huge shield, and other times it's a fuel that burns completely, so once you experience it you'll never be able to live without it again.
I wanted to survive somehow so that those who chose me, a nobody, and decided to love me could feel proud.

--- p.21~22

In fact, people who travel may be unknowingly preparing for the worst.
Sensitive people are clearly aware of this fact, while those who are a little more sensitive may have buried it deep in their subconscious.
Even on beautiful beaches, there are poisonous jellyfish, and even on bright lawns, knives are pulled out of their sheaths.
The world, humanity, and civilization can turn back a hundred years in an instant, and those who can feel sadness must endure those who cannot.
I know that the same things don't always happen in the same place, and I acknowledge that times are not so good these days, but I can't help but hope that somewhere, somewhere, those sweet conversations are still going on.

--- p.47

The Earth is 4.5 billion years old, and all of this will eventually fade away when the stars and planets run out of life, leaving no trace behind. We, it seemed, have only witnessed all sorts of wonders in our short lives.
If we can just recognize the wonder as wonder, ordinary things will become extraordinary.
There are definitely moments that are perfectly wonderful, even if they disappear without a trace.

--- p.75

I desperately hope for a world where my friends, whom I cherish and love, do not suffer discrimination and humiliation and are diminished.
Happiness seems to lie in the network.
Because no one can be happy when those close to them are not happy.
Everyone endures a little bit of humiliation, but the level of humiliation that queers face every day in our society is so severe that it is of great concern.
I have a belief that starts from friendship, and I am ready to wave the rainbow flag in any city I wake up in.

--- p.160

I often think about women's lives.
About the lives of women around the world.
Some fear and speculate that the reason the world is so broken and falling apart is because women, who have the potential to restore and improve it, are denied access to education and social action.
While it's frustrating to think that the potential these women lost will ultimately become a potential lost for humanity, it's also a source of hope that we live in an era where meaningful movements are being made even in areas where women are severely oppressed, and where it's easier than ever to send support from far away.
To remind myself that there are things that come together and become stronger, I donate to human rights organizations and listen to Oh Ji-eun's "Small Freedom" to strengthen my heart.

--- p.227

Sometimes I wonder if humanity is at the end of civilization or at the beginning.
I wonder what this strange pointillism, created simultaneously by people who are sweet just by thinking about it and people who push their hearts to the abyss, looks like from afar.
As a dot in pointillism, it is only a crude imitation of the entire image, which is unfixed and constantly changing, and which can never be seen by oneself, as a novel.
Lean on the people you care about, and try not to get too frustrated.

--- p.262

I am determined to get through this long and dark period, controlling my desire to meet you and run to you and hug you.
When I look back on my old travels, I realize how many things I have taken for granted and enjoyed.
It's embarrassing, but I really want to tell C that one day, the short days we spent together and the long nights we held on to saved me.

--- p.292

I've found that there's a special joy in narrowing down your preferences.
That person is my writer, my painter, that painting is not mine, but it is my painting… … .
There was a satisfaction in clearing away ambiguity and grasping certainty like a jewel.
In a world where it's easier to say what you dislike than what you like, aren't people who like more things happier?

--- p.363