One Winter in Sokcho

One winter in Sokcho—a forgotten place between the two Koreas. A girl was given life by a father she didn't know, but never a name. He was the one from "there," and she dreamt of him every day in her monotonous life, working behind the front desk of a dilapidated old hotel.
A deadly knife in Sokcho, and the one who broke it when he came looking for the lines of his drawings in that forgotten environment.
Beyond the sea, there are guns aimed from North Korean watchtowers. In the sea, there are fish like boys, surrendering themselves to the current and never reaching it.
The inmate also comes from that "over there." He carries all its ambiguities and mysteries, paper he chews whenever inspiration fails him, and ink unable to shape the contours of a woman who is so elusive to him.
Despite the dazzling neon lights of the dark town, the pungent smell of the fish market, and the hiss of curiosity and desire, there is a distance between the two, full of impermissible things and questions that don't aspire to answers. It is a foggy distance laden with turbulent emotions that cannot find a shore.
One winter in Sokcho, frost had a different meaning, a season unlike any other...
In a forgotten interKorean place, a young girl was granted life by a father whom she did not know, and who did not bestow her last name. He belongs to “that place” that she dreams of every day in her monotonous life, where she works behind the reception desk in an old rundown hotel.
The detrimental silence in Sokcho is broken by a guest who came looking for the lines of his drawings in that forgotten environment.
Beyond the sea, rifles are aimed from within the watchtowers of North Korea. And within the sea are fish that resemble the girl, surrendering to the current without reaching anywhere.
The guest comes from “that place” too. He carries all of his ambiguities and papers that he crumples whenever inspiration betrays him, and some ink that is impotent of shaping the terrains of an unapproachable woman.
Despite the intensity of the dazzling neon lights in the dark town, the pungent smell of the fish market, and the whispers of curiosity and desire, the two places are separated by the impermissible mined distance and questions that do not strive for answers. A foggy distance healed with emotional complexity. That Winter in Sokcho, the frigid weather had a different taste, and a season like no other…