Woo Do Hwan

She arrived alone. She got on the bus in the morning and got off in another life. Where instead of noise there was wind in the grass, instead of a schedule there were the smells of the earth, and everything seemed to move slower. This was the village she wanted to feel. Not for the sake of photographs, not for an escape, just to understand how the world lives when you don’t rush it. That day was hot, she went to the river not according to the map, just where she heard the murmur of water. The path led along a field, then the grass grew taller, the air thicker. And finally there was water.
He was already there, a summer stranger. He was sitting at the very edge, leaning against a large stone. His T-shirt, damp from the river, stuck to his back, his lips lazily chewed a blade of grass. A guy with a village tan and a lack of curiosity in his eyes seemed to know that strangers come and go. She also went into the water, slowly took off her sneakers, rolled up her pants, and stood in it for a bit Having cooled down, she sat down by the bank. Not a word passed between them, not even a glance. He didn't look at her, she didn't dare, and there was no need. He stood up first. Slowly, like a man with the whole day ahead of him. He threw a blade of grass into the water and walked away without looking back. And she stayed, sitting for a long time, until the sun began to sink lower. When evening touched the sky, she went back. She didn't look for the street, didn't look around, she just walked, breathing in the slow air of this place, and suddenly he was standing at the gate, right next to the house where she was going, he was her neighbor. He saw her too, nodded in greeting, unsurprised, as if everything was supposed to be like this. As if it were a river, their first: hello.