now reading — 04:30

새벽dawn

the first bird, before any other; one note, then the silence again, longer than the note.

the kettle climbs through its small register of pitches and lands on the one that means it’s ready.

kettle, copper, the one that whistles

아침morning

commute light through plane-tree leaves — the same green it has been for forty years, and somehow new.

plane-tree leaf, brown along the western edge

a stranger’s umbrella, half-folded, sticking out of a public trash can like a wing not yet given up on.

umbrella, half-folded, plum dye

the third email of the morning, and the first one that requires me to think; the cursor blinks twice before I answer.

the thirteenth email of the morning. somewhere between the third and the thirteenth I stopped reading them as letters.

noon

the office is quiet two minutes early; everyone has already left in their head.

a bowl of kimchi jjigae, the spoon resting on the rim — the only color of the whole afternoon arrives at the table.

jjigae, kimchi, second portion

a magpie on the gutter across the street; motionless for ninety seconds, and then suddenly somewhere else, with no transition.

오후afternoon

a 7-Eleven coffee, lid still on; the steam finds the small hole and gives up before getting anywhere.

coffee, paper cup, the warmth almost gone

a bookmark, left at page 142, where it has been since Tuesday; the page corners curl toward each other.

bookmark, plum cloth, in a book half forgotten

저녁dusk

a streetlight reflected in a small puddle that shouldn’t still be there; tomorrow it won’t be.

streetlight, single lamp, in standing water

a window across the courtyard with a single lamp behind it; somebody else is also at home, and the same dusk falls in two windows at once.

window, lamp on, evening side

in the kitchen, a cat’s tail disappears around the corner of the doorway; the cat is gone before I’ve looked up.

slippers, mismatched: one mine, one not mine. I have not worn another person’s slippers in seven months.

slippers, mismatched, one of each

the third light comes on across the courtyard; this is the hour the building admits it’s night.

night

the refrigerator hums in a key one semitone below the room. it has hummed in this key for the eleven months I have lived here.

refrigerator, door slightly ajar

a bus card, face down on the entry table; tomorrow it will be picked up without being looked at.

bus card, T-money, face down

it is past midnight and not yet tomorrow; the day has slipped its banks but has not picked a new shape.

an empty noodle bowl on the desk; a single noodle, alone, draped along the rim.

bowl, empty, one noodle remaining

.

haroo.day — one day, painted in watercolor.
printed on jangji paper, 2026.