Korean Short Stories
Kim Haeng-sook A Smaller Person 더 작은 사람 Translated by Jeong Eungwi
Information This work was previously published in New Writing from Korea . Please contact the LTI Korea Library. library@klti.or.kr
A Smaller Person I intend to be smaller until I start to grow small. I am a small person, a smaller person, a dog, a cat, a finger, a matchstick, I obstinately stared in one direction. A frowning look lingers in my every wrinkle. Something impressive, light, pain, Since my first breath, I've gone on breathing. Ah, the beginning is like that. The beginning forgets the beginning and the last does not know it's the last. Ma, I shouted as my first word but in vain. If it were Dad, oh, my God! When I start to grow small, it's the start. I am a smaller person, a smaller dog, a smaller lizard, a smaller voice, an interference of waves, the untouchable sky, And a refraction of waves, a touchable raindrop, a raindrop, a larger raindrop, I was a shower passing with a gust of wind. Small people with umbrellas turned inside out like the world, stuck to the window for a while I am smaller circles, Inside the window three children are playing the game of scissors rock and paper to decide the rules and roles. One child stretches out his palm and rattles off mysterious lies about a vanished coin but I couldn't hear the whole story through to the . . .
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