Follow me .ᐟ like this! l.. like this? nahhh… no, like us! 💧 💧 💧
Follow me .ᐟ like this! l.. like this? nahhh… no, like us! 💧 💧 💧
– a sizzling summer in America ⛱ ★ ★ ★ Just somewhere super ᯓ ✈︎ ⋆ ☁︎ far https://21stcxntxry.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/08/Untitled.mp4 I couldn’t fall asleep right before leaving, so I ended up filming something on a sudden burst of feeling—looking back, it’s pretty funny, honestly. It literally is super far away—physically, and somehow emotionally too. For reasons I still can’t quite explain, America always felt like a place with a strange kind of distance. I never once imagined that I’d be going there anytime soon… I had actually applied to a school in New Zealand—the place I’d dreamed of visiting—pouring everything I knew about the country into my application with a fluttering heart. But because of some changes on the school’s side, the plan suddenly shifted, and just like that, everything was rerouted to the United States. Looking back, though, I think being able to see this country up close—whether in its better moments or its worse ones—was something I’m grateful for. why does it look so cute from this angle.. After sneaking off to Shanghai at twenty, this was my second solo trip—and my very first long-haul flight. The experience was basically: doze off, wake up, eat whatever they handed me… drift back to sleep, wake up, eat again… repeat three or four times, and suddenly the flight was over. The immigration checkpoint I’d been so nervous about? Cleared without a hitch ☑️. Got on the airport train, made it safely into the city ☑️. But then I walked up to someone to ask for subway directions but— umm? They stared at me like I was some kind of insect, for a few seconds, then just turned and walked away. That was my first attempt at speaking to a stranger here, and at the same time, my first face-to-face brush with racism. Haha. Oddly enough, it didn’t leave me angry or wounded. It was more like—“So this is what it feels like…”—as if something had smacked me in the head and kept going. I shrugged it off, acted like nothing had happened, and wandered on in whatever direction seemed right. I somehow found the subway, rode into the city, and got off—only to discover that every exit was stairs. So there I was, swearing under my breath as I dragged my suitcase up step after step. By the time I finally stood on the streets of New York for the first time, the excitement I’d carried here had already drained away, leaving me with a scowl. And that’s when a man on a bike rode past and called out: “Hey! Welcome to New York! You’re gonna be fine!” With that, all the little bits of negativity I’d been holding onto began to wash away, and from that moment on, I honestly felt like I could start fresh and try again. It really is true—sometimes all it takes is a single kind word. ★ ★ ★ New York I always prefer crowded shots enjoyed spotting cool buildings way home🚶🏻♀️ The thrill of being so far from home would suddenly hit me—equal parts excitement, fear, and novelty—only for me to turn smug after a short walk with a map in hand, thinking, “Well, people live the same everywhere, don’t they?” I’d known in theory, but actually being dropped into the chaos and grime of this city—both its positives and negatives—left me unsure of what exactly I was supposed to be seeing or feeling. One thing that made me laugh at myself was how my feet kept drifting toward Koreatown without me realizing it, haha. Before coming, I’d sworn: This is it. For a whole month I won’t even think about Korean food, and I’ll barely see any Koreans. But once I was alone in a completely unfamiliar environment, instinct pulled me toward even the smallest traces of familiarity. Though the wail of sirens often broke the night, exhaustion piled up enough that I still slept soundly. And the next morning, I crossed into Brooklyn. …And I fell in love at first sight. https://21stcxntxry.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/08/브루클린-영상-1.movhttps://21stcxntxry.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/08/브루클린-영상2.mov lovely and pricey shoes ¯ ³¯ wanted this one… didn’t realize that person’s eyes were on me well.. I wish I was! It was just one bridge away from Manhattan, but the impression was completely different. Maybe because it was a weekday, it felt so much cleaner and calmer. Thirsty, I wandered in circles looking for something to drink, which only gave me more chances to admire the neighborhood’s charm. When I finally stepped into Brooklyn Bridge Park, the sight of the bridge, the river, and the skyline stretching before me was something I never want to forget. But what truly made me feel like I’d fallen in love was crossing the bridge itself ♫—with the perfect weather, an impossibly painted sky, and my favorite songs in my ears, I walked back from Brooklyn into Manhattan. And with each step, I felt myself forming a new impression of New York, one very different from the day before. https://21stcxntxry.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/08/Untitled.mov This city reminded me of something I already knew but somehow felt more clearly here: there are so many different kinds of lives in the world, each carrying struggles we don’t see, yet all managing to live side by side. That simple fact, felt on my skin this time, was oddly comforting to someone who often feels uneasy just being. I also remembered a phrase I once heard and quietly kept in my mind: “Because you are nothing, you can become anything.” Amid the chaos, the mess, and the sheer variety of it all, I realized maybe I wasn’t as important as I thought—certainly not important enough to tremble with so much anxiety. And instead of feeling powerless, that thought actually encouraged me. If I wasn’t that important, then maybe life could feel lighter, even more enjoyable. If I was nothing, then I could really become anything. And in this city, it felt like whatever I became would somehow be accepted. That’s the strange, romantic sense New York
– the first half of 2025 ⭐️ It’s only been a few months, but the first half of this year has already brought a whirlwind of shifting plans and evolving thoughts—along with plenty of new ones forming too. As always, I saw and experienced things I didn’t expect, and I had to sit with emotions that were unfamiliar. Out of all those messy, scattered moments, I tried to dig up just the ones I felt were worth remembering—dressing some of them up as neatly as I could, while leaving others completely raw, standing here in this little gallery(?). If someone happens to wander through and look around with me, that’d be lovely, haha. <As a New Year Begins…> With the climate crisis, social conflicts, discrimination, and growing waves of hatred, I sometimes wonder whether we’re truly living—or slowly dying. The choices I make in the name of growth or happiness often end up hurting the planet. Creatures die for the convenience I so casually enjoy. And even as I try to stay mindful of that convenience, I still rely on it. I’m just one contradiction in a world full of contradictions—and that realization often brings a painful sort of despair, until I remind myself to accept it all, calmly. Still, I ask: what can I do? I hope the idea that small, personal actions can lead to meaningful change holds true for a long time. But inevitably, I get swept up in the reality right in front of me and set those thoughts aside. Then, once again, the same questions return. And by the time I’ve cycled through them a few more times, I find myself standing in what people call a “new year.” Now I know that happiness isn’t some ongoing state—it comes and goes like dots on a timeline, briefly appearing, then vanishing again. I don’t chase it as a goal anymore. Grand beginnings and endings, all the numbers that structure our lives—over time, many things I thought were important no longer feel that way. And in their place, I’m beginning to realize the value of things I once overlooked. Maybe life is just a slow unraveling of our illusions. I still don’t know—are we really living, or just fading away? Usually, I feel like I should end thoughts like these with something profound. But all I have are questions—no tidy resolutions. Maybe that’s the point: none of this has a right answer. How are we supposed to live? All I know for sure is that I don’t want to go dry inside. I want to keep thinking, aching, getting angry, feeling ashamed. But also—observing, noticing, loving. I don’t want to live this life with a cold face that pretends to have no interest in hope. If there’s one thing I can promise myself right now, it’s that. And I believe there are still many others who feel the same. ࿔ ࿔ ࿔ ࿔ ࿔ And yet, despite the bold promises I made to myself at the start of this so-called new year, it’s been hard—really hard—to hold on to hope. In a time when everything feels suspended in transition, injustices both loud and quiet grow bolder by the day, carving out new territory across the globe. The systems we once trusted—what we called “order”—have begun to unravel, and in this chaos, some feel a twisted kind of thrill, while for others, even the simple act of looking forward to tomorrow has become a luxury. And amid it all, my country is said to be over. It wasn’t just the helplessness—I could live with that. What struck me more was the strange weight of realizing, with unsettling clarity, that I’m living through the twilight of the country I was born and raised in, whether I like it or not. I’ve always looked at this place with more criticism than affection, but deep down—though I’ve never wanted to admit it—there’s always been a quiet hope that things might turn out okay. Maybe because I can’t leave. Or maybe simply because I wanted to believe, for my own sake. What does our country look like now, seen from above all the clouds it once rose to sit on? And what would it feel like to watch that descent unfold? But here comes the more pressing question. At a time when the idea of “peace” has been more taken for granted than ever in human history—and now, all that was once considered natural is being put on trial in this great transitional moment— Q: What should I be thinking? And what am I supposed to feel? ࿔ ࿔ ࿔ ࿔ ࿔ A: Even when I know absolutely nothing—there’s always that one thing that remains unchanged and certain. <March> There was a day that could only be described as relentlessly cruel. I faced it all at once: the bitterness of unkindness, the harsh sting of authority, the wind that howled louder than usual, a dead phone in an unfamiliar neighborhood, rows and rows of alien buildings that felt impossible to adjust to, and cars that sped by too fast, leaving behind nothing but a jarring discomfort. And amid it all, I came face to face with a version of myself that felt smaller than anything. I was sure I’d cry. But when I looked in the mirror, I was smiling. And I thought—I want to be kinder. It was strange. Had I somehow grown stronger without noticing? Or was I always stronger than I thought? Either way, that night, I held onto that unexpected will with everything I had. I remembered a day in Bangkok last winter, when I bought some mangoes from a street vendor. Just as I was about to turn away, the vendor smiled wide and said, “Happy new year.” I remember thinking that moment would grow into something meaningful later in life. I just never expected it to blossom here—out of a place steeped in unkindness. Because usually, unkindness breeds unkindness. So now, I’m determined not