Yeah, this was it.
I suddenly felt like writing something like Kim Sol-tong.
In terms of importance on Earth, it is a quaternary existence (not the 4th industrial revolution, but just 4th) that cannot be compared to the seaweed, the oil applied to the seaweed, or the brush that applies the oil. So it will not be able to obtain nationwide instrumental utility, but for some, its redundant yet neat utility will certainly be very welcome.
The moment you see it, it is something that makes you realize something new, like, 'What in the world is this?' and (like Kim Sol) rediscover something else you had forgotten.
And those perceptions are just as important as applying oil to the seaweed.
Kim Sol-tong.
I finally found it.
What I want to write.
The first sentence that will create the parentheses.

--- p.19

I really feel like it's so disrespectful to my ancestors.
They assume themselves to be sensible and understanding people, but their ancestors have turned them into sociopaths who do not know how to consider the tiring daily lives or circumstances of their descendants and only want to find food and be greeted.
Regardless of what kind of life you lived or what kind of character you had, the moment you die and become an ancestor, you are treated as a demon or a supernatural being who lacks affection, is obsessed with food, and is narrow-minded and lacks common sense.
How can I die in peace when I feel so wronged and scared?
If I were an ancestor, I would be more upset about being treated as a sub-average person who would ruin the lives of my descendants and curse them for not providing them with food than about not being able to eat. I would want to overturn the ancestral rites table.

--- p.85

Thanks to that, the first flight ended safely.
It was cold in Sapporo, and apart from the fact that the plane shook a lot during takeoff, which was a bit scary, the flight was so smooth and smooth that there wasn't much to be impressed with.
Perhaps that's why, even after the plane that suddenly appeared in the sky in front of my house and opened the 'First Flight' page passed by, and even as several more planes passed by, what kept lingering in my mind was not the first flight itself, but the scenery of that early morning.
My scalp moving and pulling as I combed it, my friend's eyelids going back and forth to compare if both eyebrows were drawn the same, the feel of the brush moving busily across my cheek, the whirring sound of the hair dryer, the smell of spray floating in the air, the vibration that reached my hand every time the suitcase wheels rolled on the cement floor, the gazes of my friends behind me, my son-in-law finally starting to brighten up, my shoulders straightening with confidence for some reason, things like that.

--- pp.151~152

The beginning was bone.
Bones? Skeletons? Could it be that you're actually skeletons? That's what I thought.
J soaked the bones in water, changing the water every few hours to remove the blood for ten hours, then washed the bones thoroughly and boiled the bones in broth four times for over 20 hours.
Oh my gosh… … No, what is this ‘Bibimyeon’ situation where you start off with a picture of red peppers and then dry them, grind them into powder, and then make gochujang with them to make bibimjang?
If you include the times when J, who was trying to make ox bones for the first time, got lost here and there, it took almost two days just to make the broth.
This is crazy, really.
Moreover, because he was anxious about sleeping with the gas stove on, he set a timer and checked it repeatedly while he was sleeping, so it seemed like J barely slept for two days.
Crazy… … Really… … .
“I’m so excited! If you eat this, you’ll feel so much better!”

--- p.209