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[Writer's Notes] Will I Be Able to Reach the Tree?

by Kim Soom March 10, 2022

Kim Soom

Kim Soom has published thirteen novels, most recently When Has a Soldier Wanted to Be an Angel? (2018) and Sublime is Looking Inward (2018), the third and fourth novels in her Comfort Women series, and six short story collections. She has received the Yi Sang Literary Award, Hyundae Literary Award, Daesan Literary Award, Heo Gyun Literary Award, and the Tong-ni Literature Prize. One Left (2016), the first novel in her Comfort Woman series, was translated and published in Japan in 2018. Her story “Divorce” is out from Strangers Press, UK as part of their Yeoyu Korean Literature series (2019)




1






A   What are you thinking about?

O   Trees. I’m going to go find a tree. I’ll go find it on my own.




A   I just saw it.

O   What?

  The shadow of a bird flying above.

O   Shadows of flying birds are islands. Islands that can never be reached.

  Then what about the shadows of trees?

  A bird flying into oblivion.




A   Can I go with you?

O    . . .

  Your fingers smell like fish.

O   I thought about fish. The sad fish in the tank in front of a hoe restaurant with their naïve expressions. And Spinoza . . . When my eyes opened at six o’clock this morning I thought of Spinoza. And the lenses of glasses, white waves, a grey house, candles, buttons.

A   Buttons?

O   Do you remember my green coat? The fourth button fell off and I need to reattach it. But to do that I need to buy a needle and thread, and buying a needle is difficult for me. Same with buying a knife.






A   Where’s the tree?

O   The tree is above the ground.

A   So where is it?

O   It’s about hundred and fourteen kilometers away from where you’re standing. They say that the tree is around eight hundred years old. No one knows its precise age.

A   Can I go with you?

O   How has it lived for eight hundred years?

A   Because it’s a tree . . .

O   For me, just living a single day is desolate and frightening. Some days, a single day feels longer than eternity, which means I’m often stricken with horror as to how to live for today.

A   For all we know, a day may be longer than eight hundred years.









2






  I wanted to go find the tree on my own.

A   When’s the bus coming? The bus that will take us close to the tree. We have been waiting for two hours at this bus stop and all I can see are disused stables, empty pastures, and a church cross.

O   The bus may not come.

A   This is the first time in my life I’ve waited for a bus that may not even be coming. 

O  Anyhow, I’m going to walk to the tree.

A   Let’s go together!

O   I wanted to go find the tree on my own.









3






A   If you look at us from up above, I bet we look like one person.

O    . . .

  No need to go as far as the moon.

O    . . .

  Why haven’t you said anything since before?

O   We, that is to say you and me, why are we going together to find the tree? We aren’t even lovers.

A   Oh, so we aren’t lovers . . .

O   I don’t love you. I only love one person.

A   What do you think about when you’re walking?

O   Death . . . I think about death.

A   Since when?

O   I’ve thought about death long before you came along.






4






A   What’s that up there on top of the hill?

O   The tree . . . It must be a coincidence that the tree is over there. The same way it’s a coincidence where a stone lies in a river.

A   So that tree has been coincidentally standing there for eight hundred years.



A   How much longer do we have to walk before we reach the tree?

O   A day, two days, four days . . .
A   The sun has gone and disappeared; even without the sun it’s so bright.



A   How many days have we been walking?
O   Three days . . .
A   What are you thinking?
O   I’m thinking I want to plant a tree and live while watching it grow . . . If I can’t disappear.
  If you can’t disappear?
O   Every time I think about death, I’m paralyzed by the desire to disappear—silently, leaving no trace. The desire is so powerful it feels like my heart is aflame. 
A   Where do you want to plant the tree?
O   Just on empty land. I open my eyes in the morning, wash my face, drink some water, and pray. I eat my breakfast, then go to the tree. I sit in front of the tree all day long, then come home. 
A   When do you write?
O   Finding the tree is writing. Looking at the tree is writing. Touching the tree is writing. And even after my life has run its course, the tree remains.








5






O   The tree is thirty paces ahead.

A    The leaves have fallen off, not a single one left.
O   The wind blows . . . The branches are swaying. The tree is swaying. So even eight-hundred-year-old trees still sway. To remain standing like that it must always have been swaying—not a single day of rest, for eight hundred years. For there are no days when the wind does not blow.



O   It seems like the tree is coming down to the ground. As far as I know, that tree could always be in the process of coming down to the ground.
A   Two birds have flown to the tree. Birds smaller than sparrows. The birds sat on a branch. One bird flew away.
O   In a tree as big as that there are only two nests.

A   A rather large bird flew off as if grazing the tree. A grey bird a little larger than a magpie.

O   Another little bird has landed in the tree.
A   Three rather large birds flew in from the west and behind the tree.
O   Three little birds flew up into the tree.
A   How strange . . . Earlier, there were two birds in the tree and since one flew away there should only be two birds, so how are there three?
O   There must have been a small bird hiding in the nest, don’t you think?
A   Let’s take a closer look.
O   The larger bird is trapped in the tree branches.








6




O   It seems like we’re not walking toward the tree, the tree is walking towards us . . .





7






O   The tree is twenty paces ahead.

A   I can see the roots poking out of the ground.
O   The roots are like rivers. Rivers that snarl, surge, and swirl. Rivers unable to flow into the ocean, trapped without start or end, that can’t flow to the ocean.
A   Do you want to touch the tree?

O   I don’t know.

A   Let’s go closer to the tree.




A   The tree is eighteen paces ahead . . . The tree is sixteen paces ahead . . . The tree is twelve paces ahead.
O   It’s as if we’re walking into the tree . . .
A   The tree is ten paces ahead . . . The tree is seven paces ahead . . .
O   I can’t take a single step more. It’s like I’m going to be swallowed up by that tree if I take one more step. To tell you the truth, I’m frightened of that tree.
A   Well then, let’s turn at the tree. Let’s count how many steps it takes to walk all the way around it. 
O   I wanted to go find the tree on my own.
  One, two, three, four . . .

O   I found the tree on my own.

A   One hundred, one hundred and one, one hundred and two . . . We’ve only gone half way around.





O   If seen from above, would we and the tree look like one mass?

A   Well, then there’s no need to go to as far as the moon. 





(END)









Translated by Victoria Caudle






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