Come Back

Barely able to exhale the breath that had been trapped inside, Choi Hong-seo couldn’t help but let the words spill out from his trembling lips.

“How… how is this… here…”

There weren’t many photos hanging on the white walls. Some were hung side by side, almost as if they were a set, while others were attached vertically. Some maintained a distance from the others. What was certain, though, was that more than half of the photos decorating both walls were ones Choi Hong-seo had already seen.

In the center of the long hall, Choi Hong-seo slowly took a step back. Then, he turned his body and backed up in the opposite direction. Like someone surrounded by wild beasts, he stumbled around the hall in confusion.

Before leaving for the last time, before heading to the rooftop.

These were the photos Choi Hong-seo had painstakingly erased one by one in the hotel room in Bangkok, Thailand. The photos he had deleted were now resurrected and hanging here, at this distant location, in “Lampas'” exhibition.

The pain from back then, when it felt like he was erasing not just photos, but his memories, his life, and his very existence, awakened from the depths of his heart. His shoulders trembled irregularly, as if reliving the moment he had once collapsed, crying. But the tears still hadn’t come.

“……”

His gaze stopped on a photo of a bird flying through a cloudy, empty sky.

He remembered it was taken in Jakarta.

However, there was nothing in the photo that could specify the location. Only a nameless bird flying alone in the cloudy sky, appearing very small in the distance.

What truly caught Choi Hong-seo’s attention, though, was the other photo placed right next to it — a photo by Lampas.

It was of a tree.

A bare tree, seen from below, its branches reaching up to the sky. The leaves had mostly fallen, leaving the tree exposed, but its arms and embrace still open toward the heavens. It almost seemed as if the tree was telling the exhausted bird, which had flown through the empty sky, to rest its wings here.

And so, the bird and the tree were together in perfect harmony, like one unified work of art.

That was when the hot tears finally fell. The tears, unable to flow, gathered at the corners of his eyes and grew larger, almost the size of pearls. Without even grazing his cheeks, they fell straight to the floor with a heavy thud.

There was also a photo of the view from the hotel room in Bangkok, taken as the torrential rain poured outside. It was the very last room he had stayed in. The city was obscured by the downpour, and all the lights blurred. It almost looked like a thick fog had settled over the area.

Again, a photo by Lampas was placed below it.

This time, it was a black-and-white image of a raging sea, with huge waves crashing violently. The towering waves seemed like they could swallow up anyone who might be standing at the beach taking the picture.

It was sadness.

Choi Hong-seo didn’t know much about art. He couldn’t appreciate paintings or photos in a sophisticated way. But he could understand the emotions conveyed by the artwork. He could feel that the person who had taken that photo was in great sorrow. He could tell that person had already been swallowed by the very waves he had captured.

The photos he had left behind were responding to the photos of Lampas, as if they were answering each other.

“Don’t share these photos through the messenger. Let’s show them to each other when we meet next time, okay?”

“Or maybe, we can have a joint exhibition later.”

Just thinking about fulfilling the promise to visit “Lampas'” exhibition had driven him to this place, but there were even more promises being fulfilled.

The tears blurred his vision like a downpour.

This was his love, and the realization of a promise.

He understood that he was buried within that love.

He carefully gazed at each photo, tracing them with his eyes. He took special care to capture them with his phone camera. Afterward, he leaned against the windowsill and sat on the floor, letting time pass by.

The sunlight that had filled the far corner of the hall began to recede like an ebbing tide. It slowly retreated from the tips of Choi Hong-seo’s feet, passing his knees and thighs before finally disappearing.

He didn’t want to leave. It felt like paradise, like a fairy tale world, like Lee Ha-seong’s embrace. He loved the place so much that he even wished it could be his grave.

There were no photos of Lee Ha-seong or Choi Hong-seo hanging anywhere. But if the deleted memories had been recovered, there was no need to worry. The photos they had taken of each other, the ones they had hesitated to delete until the very end, would have all come back safely.

Erasing the photos didn’t mean he would forget him, and even if he erased his own existence, it didn’t mean he would forget him. The memory of how he had steadied himself with that thought stirred his emotions.

He lifted his head and turned his gaze toward the window, leaning against the sill. A large commercial building stood right across the street, and the sun was distorting above the palm trees planted in the parking lot.

Watching the red sun dye the entire sky orange, he got up from his seat. He couldn’t tell how long he had been there — maybe just ten minutes, or maybe it felt like a lifetime. It was a strange feeling.

The woman who ran the gallery was organizing something behind the counter.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been here too long, haven’t I?”

“Come over here and have a cup of tea before you leave.”

She smiled, as if it didn’t matter, and pointed to the sofa in front of the counter.

Knowing that he wasn’t comfortable with English, she gave him space and didn’t engage in conversation while he drank his tea. Perhaps the paintings she was packing were sold ones, as she methodically wrapped them up.

The warm, fragrant herbal tea replenished the fluids lost from his tears and helped calm the emotions that had flared up so intensely. The anxiety and tension he had felt while coming here had now disappeared, and he felt more comfortable, as if he had returned home.

As she moved the wrapped artworks outside the counter, Choi Hong-seo put down his nearly finished cup of tea and hurried to help.

“I’ll help you.”

“Thank you.”

After carefully placing around six or seven pieces by the entrance, the sky had already darkened into a deep sunset.

“Can I come again tomorrow?”

“Michelle.”

“……”

“Call me Michelle.”

“Can I come again tomorrow, Michelle?”

“Of course. As you can see, our gallery is always very quiet. Visitors are welcome anytime, especially a distinguished guest from so far away.”

“Thank you.”

Though he couldn’t understand everything she said, from her expression and tone, as well as a few words, he could tell that she was welcoming him. There were still a few days left. Before returning to Korea, he planned to come every day.

“Uber?”

“No. Hotel, Uber, no.”

Even from just the short words, she understood what he meant and kindly called a taxi for him. While waiting for the taxi, she also introduced him to a different taxi app, not Uber.

At the hotel lobby, once again, no one paid any attention to Choi Hong-seo. Although there was a doorman, this wasn’t the kind of five-star hotel where every guest arriving was greeted with warmth. The doorman, who had firmly told Choi Hong-seo that Uber was not allowed and had called a taxi for him, was now helping a family guest take a commemorative photo in the lobby. He acted completely differently toward them, showing much more warmth. After receiving a tip, he kept bowing as he watched the family leave.

Choi Hong-seo stood by the elevator, watching the scene with little interest.

He returned to his old, gloomy hotel room and collapsed directly onto the bed.

After a long, tense flight and only a small amount of in-flight food eaten in the past 20 hours, he wasn’t hungry at all. It wasn’t that he lacked appetite, but rather that he couldn’t feel hunger.

Without even changing his clothes or covering himself with the blanket, he curled up in a fetal position and fell asleep. All he could think of was the excitement of going back to the “Lampas” exhibition the next day. He was looking forward to having more time tomorrow to check out souvenirs. He even thought he might find a mug there…

With that thought, he fell into a deep sleep with a smile on his face.

The next day, he left the hotel earlier than the previous day. He had breakfast at the hotel, and after a good night’s sleep, he felt much less tired.

After walking to a shopping mall behind the hotel and buying a small bouquet for Michelle, he used an app to call a taxi. Everything went smoothly, unlike yesterday. During the ride to the gallery, he was relaxed enough to lean back in the seat and look out the window at the scenery. It wasn’t the beautiful view that people often imagine when they think of LA, but since the destination was beautiful, the journey didn’t matter.

Fortunately, Michelle was very happy with the modest gift.

“Thank you so much for yesterday. It’s nothing much, but please accept it.”

He said this clumsily, having practiced with a translation app. She smiled and nodded while burying her nose in the flowers—purple, orange, and yellow chrysanthemums—taking in their fragrance.

“How did you come up with such a beautiful idea? Now that you’ve given me a gift, you can stay as long as you want today.”

Like a grandson rushing to his hideout in the attic when visiting his grandmother’s house. Choi Hong-seo climbed the stairs to the second floor. His excitement and nervousness were the same as yesterday, but he wasn’t as tense this time. Now that he knew what was up there, there was no need to count the steps. He just wanted to hurry up and go.

However, just a few steps from the top of the stairs, Choi Hong-seo stopped, unable to take the next step. The strap of his bag, which he had been holding loosely, was now tightly clenched in his hand until his fingers turned pale.

He was standing in the same all-white space where sunlight poured in generously, just like the day before.

In front of the photo of the bird and the tree. Wearing the ivory boat-neck sweater he had worn the day they walked Namsan together. He was staring at Choi Hong-seo, frozen on the stairs. In the reflected light, he looked like an angel.