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Christmas Specials

Christmas Specials by Kim Ae-ran Translated by Jamie Chang t's the quietest night of the year. One in the morning, when the dimming streetlights are barely visible and people outside start to vanish like magic--Seoul is as silent as a defunct musical greeting card. The man in fake Adidas sweatpants stares up at the sky, a bag of ramen tucked under his armpit. Several electric lines stretch on like staves against clouds hanging low in the sky. A snowflake falls and melts on his face. Snowflakes make their way across the staves like notes heading for the bass clef. The yellow snowflakes seem warm to the touch as they reflect light from the streetlamp. He hurries on, hands thrust into his pockets. All the small grocery stores in his neighborhood were closed, so he had to walk all the way to the convenience store. He strides down the street back to his apartment with a pack of smokes and a bag of ramen, the change in his pocket jingling as merrily as the Salvation Army bell. "I wonder how she is." He's suddenly reminded of her face, perhaps by the thousands of snowflakes, reminiscent of his own sperm, falling from http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Azalea: Journal of Korean Literature & Culture University of Hawai'I Press

Christmas Specials

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Publisher
University of Hawai'I Press
Copyright
Copyright © University of Hawai'I Press
ISSN
1944-6500
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Abstract

by Kim Ae-ran Translated by Jamie Chang t's the quietest night of the year. One in the morning, when the dimming streetlights are barely visible and people outside start to vanish like magic--Seoul is as silent as a defunct musical greeting card. The man in fake Adidas sweatpants stares up at the sky, a bag of ramen tucked under his armpit. Several electric lines stretch on like staves against clouds hanging low in the sky. A snowflake falls and melts on his face. Snowflakes make their way across the staves like notes heading for the bass clef. The yellow snowflakes seem warm to the touch as they reflect light from the streetlamp. He hurries on, hands thrust into his pockets. All the small grocery stores in his neighborhood were closed, so he had to walk all the way to the convenience store. He strides down the street back to his apartment with a pack of smokes and a bag of ramen, the change in his pocket jingling as merrily as the Salvation Army bell. "I wonder how she is." He's suddenly reminded of her face, perhaps by the thousands of snowflakes, reminiscent of his own sperm, falling from

Journal

Azalea: Journal of Korean Literature & Culture – University of Hawai'I Press

Published: Mar 23, 2011

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