Connection.

I feel this connection. It's strong, and lasting, and fills you to the fingertips. Yet, I've never been to this place before. It's not mine.

I trace large characters in the air while I lie in bed, o yo u yu eo yeo, avidly attempting to remember the slant and stroke order. There is an urgency created in the darkness, as if learning for a purpose, the moon peering in through the window at a girl doing strange hand actions, trying to figure out why. I'm sure if the moon was conversational, and I could fully explain myself, I would answer him. But the real truth of it all is, I have no idea why I am drawn to this particular system. All I know is that one day, when I was supposed to be concentrating, I looked to the left of me and just watched kun gom writing. I didn't know what it said. I don't think it mattered. It was the way he shaped his characters. It was the face he pulled when he was trying to think of the best way to express before writing. Now I spend nights at a time, with my bing translator, slowly matching words to shapes. Reading kun gom's day. Blogs. News reports.

no ran sae. that's who i am, on top of this lonely mountain. in between languages. connotation confuses you within both. so what's the point of belonging to just one?