rays (2025)
2025년 11월은 삶을 이어가는 일만으로도 버거웠던 시간이였다. 온전히 숨을 들이쉬는 일조차 쉽지 않던 날들 속에서, 집 뒤편의 고은산은 잠시 몸과 마음을 기대어 둘 수 있는 유일한 안식처였다. 때마침 산의 단풍과 식물들은 늦가을 바람에 흔들리며 각자의 빛을 흩뿌리고 있었다. 겨울을 앞둔 생명들이 내어놓는 마지막 색채는 조용하지만 단단했고, 여러 갈래의 빛은 눈물 어린 시야처럼 겹쳐지며 번졌다. 사라짐을 향해 기울어가는 시간 속에서, 빛의 파편들은 오히려 생의 감각을 다시 세웠으며, 삶을 향한 용기와 희망은 순간 찬란하게 또렷해졌다.
November 2025 was a time when simply carrying on felt overwhelming. On days when even breathing fully was difficult, Goeun Mountain behind my home became the only place where I could briefly rest my body and mind.
The autumn leaves and plants swayed in the late-autumn wind, scattering their own light. The final colors of life before winter were quiet yet resilient, while fragments of light overlapped and blurred like a vision clouded with tears.
As everything leaned toward disappearance, these fragments of light awakened my sense of being alive. In that fleeting moment, courage and hope for life became vividly, almost radiantly, clear.
The autumn leaves and plants swayed in the late-autumn wind, scattering their own light. The final colors of life before winter were quiet yet resilient, while fragments of light overlapped and blurred like a vision clouded with tears.
As everything leaned toward disappearance, these fragments of light awakened my sense of being alive. In that fleeting moment, courage and hope for life became vividly, almost radiantly, clear.
<rays> photograph book
published 2026
200 x 300 mm
28p.
published 2026
200 x 300 mm
28p.