记忆是个奇怪的东西。它并不像我以为的那样运作。我们的构造如此愚蠢，以至于我们携着最早的记忆走过一生，还以为它们是最新近的。
"Memory is a strange thing. It doesn't work as I thought it did. We are so foolishly constructed that we go through life arm in arm with our earliest memories, thinking they are the most recent."
The act of writing is an act of resistance against the absurdity of life.
花儿凋落随水流去，带着淡淡的红色，心中有无尽的闲愁，默默无言地埋怨着东风。
我不是说唱歌手，我是一个韩语的传奇。
写作是一种勇气的行为，一种面对存在混乱的方式。
