A group of children run by, flying their kites. A man on a bicycle passes us, watching us through the corner of his eye. It’s the same man who was watching us from the bridge. The red armband on his upper arm says Watch Out for Wildfires. I was told that Jimin Sunbe’s parents farm in the area and during the winter work as wildfire watchers, which makes me think the man on the bicycle might be Jimin Sunbe’s father. He and I exchange a look but don’t say anything, just like at the funeral. His first daughter, the one who got married and moved to Seoul, hung herself; two years later, his youngest daughter was found dead in her apartment in Busan, so Korea must no longer feel like home. The pendulum of his heart circles and circles, never stopping in one spot. He spins the pedals of his bike and enters the dark forest. It doesn’t seem like he’ll ever reemerge.

4. Jesa is a traditional ritual where one pays respect to the dead and other spirits, often with offerings of food and drink the dead person enjoyed in life.

Hitchhiker

Hitchhiker

Sol and I walk through a cold wind tunnel on a dusty street. No sidewalk. I’m so tired, I feel like flopping down on my butt and crying. Sol, silent through the entire journey, suddenly starts waving at a passing car. Honk honk! The passing car just honks at us. Sol, what are you doing? Of course nobody would pick up hitchhikers in this remote area. Sol, not discouraged, continues waving. It looks like she’s dancing.

“Mom!” Sol hops and runs across the road, like a fish propelled out of a pond’s depths to break free from the water. Making loud slapping noises with her shoes, she dashes over to a woman looking away from us on the opposite side of the road, and hugs her from behind. It looks so intimate. I wish I had someone I could hug from behind like that.