I held back my tears until I got home.
Similar houses
I cooked rice even though I was crying
I am a sensitive person
Director's records ( )
Wandering Shopping Cart
In our own bathroom
Where do you live
The house you live in
Living at home for a month
clear face
The heart that builds today
overlapping houses

Home is 'the world that made me, the world I created'

Anyway, the 62nd story in the series is 'Home'.
Is there a theme that fits the series, which contains the theme of 'The world that created me, the world that I created', as well as 'home'?
Everyone grows up in a given home and creates themselves.
And at some point, we begin to make the place and space we call home our own.

Of course, we cannot just think of home as a place that is ‘nice to just think about.’
The author himself says, “It was a lack, then a longing, then despair, then resignation, then joy, then obsession, then gratitude, then love.”
And, as the author says, “We do not stay at the final destination of love, but continue to move between them.” Home is a place of comfort, safety, and affection, but at times, it is a place we want to escape from, a source of resentment, and worry.
That's why it takes courage to talk about my home.
The author also carefully included the history and thoughts related to the house in the book with the intention of writing 'Anyway, My House'.

“It’s a time when you can’t be optimistic that things will get better, nor can you just give up and let things be.
Every time I thought of home.
A familiar space that embraces me with the same expression.
The time I lived through, crying and laughing.
The strength of being welcomed at home allowed me to endure today and hope for tomorrow.
The more firmly I was rooted in my home, the more securely I could go on in life.
“I was able to cross over to a world I didn’t know about and occasionally ask about other people’s well-being.”

Everyone's history is contained in their home.

From my current life in the 5th district, going back and forth between my home in Seoul, which I call the rooftop house, and my country house, which I call the bush house, a round trip of 400 kilometers, to this point, the house where my family of four lived, the house where I grew up with my grandmother, a studio apartment in the metropolitan area where I moved out to find a job and lived with a roommate, and a two-room apartment a little further into the heart of Seoul.
In other words, it ranges from rental housing, monthly rent, jeonse, and even owning one's own home.

As the members, addresses, and ownership relationships change, the writer's life also changes in various ways.
I was a child, then a student, then a job seeker, then an office worker, and now a freelancer.
The scenery captured with my eyes at that time and the appearance I look back on now sometimes overlap and sometimes overlap.
A home is the most appropriate object for looking back on one's own history.
Thinking about the houses I've lived in and thinking about myself at home.
Because it is the most specific and special object of each person, and also follows the most universal trajectory of history, if you follow the traces carefully laid out by the author, each person's memories and experiences will naturally overlap.

“My first desk, made by pasting sky blue sheet paper on an office desk, the wall next to the front door where sunflowers bloomed and withered, lettuce seedlings growing in the slivers of sunlight on the windowsill of a studio apartment, the foldable half-body bathtub that made me hum when I soaked in it, the duplex attic that was Somang’s sleeping space…
Those corners I loved made me who I am today.
It still makes me clear within myself.
“Maybe that’s how I live, covering the past house, the present house, and the future house.”

Faces that come to mind so clearly

The grandmother who kept saying, "Oh my, she's grown old by raising disobedient kids all her life," but left after raising two young siblings, the father who made me resentful that he might have passed on the depressive gene, the roommate who made the writer cook even when he cried, the neighborhood grandmother who became a strong supporter of the house and a teacher of country life, the cat Somang who is now my best friend, and the countless people who take care of my home and connect me to the world.

To think of home is to face oneself, and ultimately to picture the countless faces that surround oneself.
So, while we say that home is “a place where we feed, clothe, and shelter ourselves,” every word in this book is not a monodrama, but is filled with experiences we have had with others.

“I remember them clearly now.
People who silently support my warm and peaceful world.
People who make my house a home.
People who connect me to the world.
“The faces of each and every one of them.”