by admin
A minuscule 1.5-pyeong space. In this narrow room with peeling wallpaper, your elbows touch both walls when you lie down—a space that condenses the life of Korea's urban underclass.
Extreme physical constraints of a narrow space. An environment where sounds leak due to thin walls. The contrast between social isolation and human longing.
An old goshiwon in Sinlim-dong's exam village. Monthly rent 280,000 won, with shared kitchen and shared bathroom. Soundproofing is not to be expected, and you can even hear the coughs from the next room. Still, this is my only space in Seoul.
A room so small that placing one single bed fills the floor completely. A small desk attached to the wall with a single stand lamp on it as the only lighting. The ceiling is so low that it feels like your head would touch it if you stand up, and in this room that feels full with just one person, two people can't help but be pressed close together. Snoring sounds from beyond the wall.
The shared kitchen at 2 AM. An induction cooker with a ramen pot placed under a single fluorescent light. The person from the next room who came out at the same time to boil ramen. Taking out kimchi from the shared fridge and sharing it, shoulders bump in the narrow kitchen. The shared space of the empty dawn.
An unlocked iron door leading to the rooftop of a goshiwon building. Climb up and you can see fragments of Seoul's night view through the forest of villas. Wind blows between the blankets hanging on clotheslines, and in one corner of the rooftop, two plastic chairs left by someone. A premium seat for 280,000 won monthly rent.