Seoul International Book Fair, Daily Life, Purse, Conscience

Sitting in a cafe.

Occasionally he leaves his seat.

Go to the bathroom.

“Oh? It’s the same!”

It’s been going on for days. In this cafe where I write, I go to the same bathroom every time and it stays the same. The wallet is a horse. It’s not a day, it’s not two days, it’s not three days, it’s not four days, it’ I come to this cafe almost every day, and the wallet I saw since last Monday is still in the bathroom. The only difference is that what was on top of the last compartment and the toilet paper container has been moved to the hand wash area from today.

The person who moved to the washing place is a person who shows a very frugal mind. The cloth wallet, half the size of a cell phone, was definitely zipped open. From about nine days ago. The owner of the goods seemed to put a lot of things in it. Something like a black mini pen was seen pouting out, but today it’s on the sink with a hard zipper locked. The tip of a ballpoint pen is a little out, unable to push its face in. The transporter must have closed the zipper a little bit. The groaning, the sincerity that carried it to the visible basin.

That’s great. All those women who’ve been in and out of the bathroom for nine days, the woman who’s been struggling to move in today.

It’s all touching.

Master, when are you coming?

What you’re going to be happy about is…

In the bathroom here.

I’m waiting for you.

I hope you come soon…

Whenever I go to the bathroom for a while, I think I’ll carry my curiosity with me.

Is there? Is there?