here it is. August.

Seoul summer. the heat is oppressive. stepping outside is like walking into an oven. your first few breaths are a suffocating blanket. i often have a moment of panic--like i'm not going to be able to get enough oxygen into my lungs.
but when i pause and slow my breathing, my skin warms, and the overall temperature of my blood rises. my panic recedes. i begin to perspire.
though i can sometimes fool myself into forgetting how thick the air feels, my first few moments of daytime summer Seoul always shocks me.

i've had a hard time breathing lately. the whole month of July choked me. i think i'll always slightly hate this month--the frustrating heat, the beautiful, the awful. the fucking violence. the fucking white satin. clean blue skies, Vancouver. dripping tears. sweat. a needle buzzing into my leg. a needle sewing skin. black eyes. those memories. that black bloody darkness.

the month is over. thank God. i can move on, move forward, until next year--and maybe it won't be so severe. maybe that vice grip inside my chest won't be so tight. maybe next time my face won't turn so purple. maybe it'll all be less bloody.
"time. give it time." it's what they all say, right? i even say this, and believe it occasionally. but the problem w/ a calendar is that you can't forget. certain days and months are burned into memories.
damn this emotional bullshit. why am i so damn emotional? i wish i could turn it off. it'd be easier.

Seoul at nighttime gets much cooler. the humidity drops and breathing becomes easier.

i tasted the nightime forest this weekend. i entered the trees around midnight and began tromping up rocks--and then more rocks and boulders. i pulled myself up by tree branches and roots, and wondered if i were completely crazy. what the hell was i thinking?
how could this possibly be a good idea? the inky darkness. the sharp drops. burning muscles. trickling sweat down my back, neck, and face.

and then we hit a clearing. and there was Seoul in all of its et ceteras, a field of lights--they went on and on; orange and blue and pink and green. the streetlamps' lazy curve along the Han River, disappearing behind mountains, then reappearing further along. all of those lights. all of those people. in every direction. on and on it sprawled.

25 million. the tragedies, the hope, the faithful and unfaithful, the grinding mundane, the friendships built and broken, the buzzing TVs, the promises, the kisses, the laughter, the spilled soju. 25 million stories.

we climbed and climbed higher; the trail lost several times and then found, the continuous upward motion seemed interminable at times. the transpiration of the trees cooled our faces as we followed the person in front of us.

another clearing for rest. breezes blew over our sweating, overheated bodies; our lungs filled with the mountain air. i sprawled onto a boulder and stared at the sky:
oh hello there, Big Dipper, Little Dipper, and Orion's belt. and there you are Mars. it's been a long time.

and then the air above grew almost imperceptibly less black. and i could discern which direction was east. dark orangy and scarlet layers, along with pink. we were quiet.

the sky began to glow as the city lights began to fade. the closest mountain ranges were black, fading into dark green, falling back into the valleys of buildings and slowly swirling fog. ranges behind were staggering backwards in depth and brightened by the morning mists; the Artist's paint strokes of the horizon, subtle and never ending.

"there it is"
it's hard to describe. i remembered a story i read in childhood: a 'bright copper penny'.

i've often been awake during the dawn, but i can't remember the last time i actually saw the sun rising out of the edges. the blaze seeped and spilled around the curve of the earth and burned through the fog, warming our cheeks.

in my periphery, someone watched me sighing at the sight.
a murmur of laughter escaped my throat.
i felt the expression turn quizzical.
a smile. a brighter day, a brighter month.

the August sunrise over Seoul.