“If you summarize a person’s life, places remain.

Grow up well.”

The history of relationships quietly accumulated in every place I lived.
Our soft origins are grasped by the hand that sweeps the layers

A poet who unfolds a map of intimacy with delicate warmth
Bong Ju-yeon's second poetry collection

Bong Ju-yeon, who began her career as a writer through the 2023 『Modern Literature』 New Writer Recommendation, has published her second poetry collection 『We Were All Born from Blankets』 as the 622nd poetry collection of the Munhak-kwa-Jisung Poet Selection.
The poet, who poured out his boundless heart through his first poetry collection, “Two Letters to One Person” (Hyundae Munhak, 2024), reveals the addresses of the places his heart wanted to reach through this collection of 52 poems, divided into four parts, that meticulously capture the texture and details of life.


If you go out like that, you'll get cold.
It seems like there are spring days to regret morning and evening.

We rode the swings side by side at the playground late at night.
What are you doing here? You were nagging each other while competing to see who could climb higher.

I like to get under the table.
I even went under the grand piano in the hotel lobby.
I want a bunk bed.
Where did you learn that?
I was never a child who clearly stated what I wanted.
It's refreshing to see someone clearly state what they want.

We are all born from blankets.
In the sky, in flexibility.
―「Residence History」 section

Every place has a story.
Since we cannot float in the air without setting foot anywhere, we live our lives passing through many places, and in each place we stay, we leave traces of where we ate, slept, laughed, and talked.
The poet, who understands that this “world, made up of countless places, is made up of events” (“A Hand Made of Hands”), indicates the coordinates of places not by their location but by their history, and the poems written with those coordinates are not simply an “address book” that collects addresses, but are closer to an “address history” that includes the time experienced while living there.
By “including the surroundings in the category of places” (“This video is playing in picture in picture”), when addresses are read as individual histories rather than road names or lot numbers, the stories told by Bong Ju-yeon’s places “may be true even if they are not true” (“The Will to Identify Plants”).


In his world of poetry, “intimacy becomes a map” (“Dokdo Law”), so Bong Ju-yeon points to “heaven” [“dwelling history”] as our common origin, instead of “where we were born,” “where we grew up,” or “where our parents are.”
Because the sky has the power to “support the form of absence” (“Secret Light”), the “curtain” knows “what I do before I fall asleep” and “the expression I make when I fall asleep” (“Solidarity”), and the “tent” sees the “confession contained in the back of the neck” (“Neck”) rather than the “face of a doll.”
The poet looks into the spaces of the past one by one, as if he were “lying on a blanket and turning over photographs” (“Let there be no tomorrow, only darkness”), made of fabric that so intimately embraces us.
When “several photographs are superimposed” on a soft and gentle blanket, what “looks clearly” (“Protocol”) will be our “most beautiful time” (“Outline”), which our places have “watched over” all along.

To the old people, puppet shows were a joke.
Dolls caught by the neck.
For the person moving the puppets behind the tent, the only thing that mattered was the tail.
The audience will see the doll's face, but anyone who sees the back of its neck will want to be the person hidden behind the tent forever.

After the puppet show, people gather their hearts and gather to talk about stories they have kept hidden from each other for a long time.
Something has changed between them, and they no longer tie their hair in front of each other.

Confession is not in the heart, but in the back of the neck.
--- From "Neck"

May you fall into a deep sleep without even dreaming.
Even after receiving such kindness, I feel guilty on nights when I can't sleep.

When I open an old storybook, it smells like home.
Whose love did you receive to come here?
Between two soft legs.
A voice rings out from above the palace.
A tree branch stretched out into a small room where there was no need to remember the contents.
The room becomes the whole world.

The lights go out.
Typing, sewing, gardening… …
Things you can do with your eyes closed.

[… … ]

When I opened my eyes again, the plugged-in fan was spinning and the kitchen lights were on.
I closed the veranda door that had been slightly open, turned off the kitchen light, and lay down on the bed.
The table was back in its place.
Where did your sleep go last night?
--- From the "Power Failure Design Drawing"

Even low-resolution raindrops leave marks on the window glass.

Summer has no pockets

The wall draws in the scenery.

I don't think it's the destination that determines the direction you walk.
It's just walking along the wall.
The wall guides us in a way that does not show the entire landscape.

[… … ]

Is the tempo right?
What we watched the longest was each other's viewing speed.

In a building where no one gets lost even though the direction changes so many times

I'm confident I won't get lost today.
Turn the corner.

At an exhibition, it feels like it's over once you turn back the way you came.

Weren't there any protesters on the way back?
It could just be that the noise hasn't made it around the corner.

When I turn around to smell good, there are always purple flowers
The reverse is not true.
--- From "Art Museum Viewing Speed"

There are times when I feel like I can't stand not taking care of something.
I don't even have the confidence to raise animals and there aren't any plants on the veranda.
Call someone over and prepare dinner.
Seat people at a narrow table where stew is boiling.
After you finish eating, I'll dig out your ears.
Make a pillow out of a blanket.

A room filled with the smell of vegetable broth.
When I think of someone, a small room follows me in the background.

After eating, my hands and feet feel warm.

If you cut the stem diagonally, the flower will live longer.
A raw fish to keep you alive.
The flower shop in the apartment complex sells potted plants that live a long time even without watering, and the flower shop in the airport sells the most wreaths.

Even if you forget someone, a room comes with you
I forgot about the room, I've already seen so much.
I understand why you shouldn't invite people to your home without permission.

Before the celebration had even cooled down, one of the largest stems was broken.
--- From "Bouquet of Cut Flowers"

How long do you have to sit in front of a stepping stone before you see someone slipping their foot?
They know how to lean on each other even with their elbows.
He picks stones without even being able to properly float a water bottle.
Let's wait until the stone grows.
Even ordinary gravel, if grown well, can become a good stone for water skimming.
I think about what I can do while the stone grows.
The speed of the trail slows down as the number of lovers increases.
They lower their bodies and lower themselves further while taking pictures of each other.
Looking into the liquid crystal display, this is you, this is me.
Everyone on the riverbank seems to enjoy the fall.

--- From "Good Stones for Water Skimming"