2024 08 완산도서관 입주작가 글세 기록.
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August 2024 – Wansan Library Writer-in-Residence Notes
Wansan Library officially opened on July 29th, and as I write this on August 12th, about two weeks have passed. Looking back at how I used to wake up in the mornings, I’d lazily wiggle around in bed like a sleepy bear. But ever since becoming a writer-in-residence, I get up with this vague sense of duty. Since I’m terrible at packing in the morning (I have this habit of leaving exactly what I need at home!), I pack my bag and prepare my lunch the night before. I don’t think I was ever this diligent when I was in school.
“Is Wansan Library really that great?” my friend asked me. (Sorry to the library staff, but) I can’t quite say yes yet. The renovated Wansan Library is bright and cheerful, but the commute is brutal. I live in Dongsan-dong, in the northern part of Jeonju. When traffic is light, it takes 36 minutes by car and 44 minutes by bus. When traffic is heavy, add another 10 minutes. Taking the bus means walking about 10 minutes up a hill that’s at least a 50-degree incline under the blazing summer sun. By the time I reach the top, I look like I’ve taken a sweat shower.
I thought driving would be easier, but it’s not. Over the past 30 years, Jeonju’s public transportation has gotten worse while car ownership has increased. Traffic congestion starts showing signs around 7:40 AM and becomes a tidal wave after 8:10 AM. I tried going in the evening instead, but guess what? The evening rush hour cars come at you like a receding tide. When I finally reach the library entrance area, I’m greeted by absolutely chaotic illegal parking and elderly folks who jaywalk with abandon. Every single time I go to the library, illegal parking welcomes me like an old friend. In three weeks of driving, I’ve almost had fender-benders countless times. Did you hear that, Mate? It’s definitely not easy.
Once I enter Wansan Library, the air changes completely. Looking at the glass entrance doors in the morning and evening, you can see white condensation fogging them up. The humidity outside is at least 75%, while inside it’s around 50% – that’s quite a temperature difference. When I get to my assigned room, I’m hit with hot, muggy air. I quickly open the door and set the air conditioner to dehumidify. I can’t even open the windows because they’re floor-to-ceiling panels with no way to open them. I have no choice but to wander around the 2nd and 3rd floors for about 10 minutes before coming back to turn on my computer.
Once the humidity clears, the inside of the library reveals itself anew. From around 8:50 AM, I watch people settling into their seats to read newspapers or books, and even as librarians busily prepare for closing time, people quietly turn their pages. Watching these people, I can feel how many truly love this space. I sense this place becoming not a silent temple of books, but a quiet courtyard for people.
Since reopening, children sometimes (especially on weekends) peek into my room through the door. My room doesn’t have anything special – just a few teacups and teapots – but even that must seem fascinating to kids. When I see their little faces, I wave enthusiastically. Most just walk away, but some wave back. I believe that someday, one of those children who dreams of becoming a writer will write their stories here at Wansan Library.
When I can’t write, I go to the 2nd and 1st floors to watch people. Weekends bring lots of children, weekdays bring more adults. I observe them searching for books, pulling books from shelves and flipping through pages, looking flustered when they make too much noise with their chairs, slowly writing something in their notebooks, giggling children running around while their parents try to stop them… I believe that the people who come to the library become the pages (冊葉) of the reopened Wansan Library.
When my writing is going well but my shoulders feel heavy and the air feels stuffy, I turn toward the window. The best thing about Wansan Library is the view outside. There’s an art gallery inside the library, but it feels like the library itself becomes a frame, unfolding the canvas that is Jeonju. This August’s canvas shows summer heat and sudden showers, triple-parked cars and quiet parking lots, giant moths drawn to the lights and the chirping of long-tailed tits, all alternating before my eyes. I think these everyday moments don’t just make Wansan Library a place to borrow books, but become the library’s true identity.
As I rumble down the steep road in my car and glance at the rearview mirror, Wansan Library’s landscape grows distant. When I cross Jeonju Stream and enter downtown, the library sparkles like a white light on the hill. I’ll continue making this journey for the remaining two weeks (even if heat and illegal drivers follow me), and each time I’ll look forward to seeing what new stories will fill the library.
P.S. This post is also published on Tistory and Brunchstory.
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