Until The End of Time | Wonho [√]

27: KENOPSIA

KENOPSIA: THE EERIE, FORLORN ATMOSPHERE OF A PLACE THAT'S USUALLY BUSTLING WITH PEOPLE BUT IS NOW ABANDONED AND QUIET

On a Sunday Wonho took me to where he lived, an old and rundown neighborhood in downtown Seoul. It ought to have been scrapped by the developer companies already and turned upside down for new projects, but somehow this neighborhood seemed to evade the intrusion.

The buildings mostly were old, along with the shops and supermarkets by the narrow streets that ran like zigzags in a maze. Everyone seemed to know everyone. Wonho passed at least seven people- kids, elderlies, people around our age who said hi to him before we got to the building where he lived.

It was a four-storied, grey apartment building, almost exactly the same as the other ones. He lived on the third floor. We climbed the staircase as there was no elevator. In no time, I was well inside his lone place.

He gave me flustered smile, his eyes darting towards his room to see if anything was out of place. "This is it," he said sheepishly.

The very first thing that attracted me was the huge window facing north in his room. Only woods and a mountain beyond it. Green vegetation, a cellphone tower far ahead, and the huge sky.

Almost on cue, he went and opened it up. A gust of wind blew in fluttering the curtains. The sky outside was overcast with a layer of white clouds. There was not one inch the white hadn't covered, it very much looked like an outstretched, infinite blanket.

The weather was hot and humid, yet the wind blowing in made the room colder, and life came to it. His apartment was neat. There was one bedroom, a well spacious living room, and a kitchen with a small dining space. The furniture was minimalistic, the bedsheets pristine white along with his curtains.

He trailed behind me as I made myself home and carefully observed the details, taking in everything, the essence, the scent, him, this was where he lived. To me, it felt very much like a home, a place where you didn't just live but felt like you belonged.

"Where do we start?" I circled around and meet his eyes. He was wearing shorts again, with an oversized blue tee and a pair of white socks. "Let's start with dying your hair tips blue," I said, and a broad grin showed up on his face.

After he put on the water on the stove to boil for coffee, we headed for the bathroom. By then, I was getting well accustomed to his blond hair. I thought it suited him, his pale complexion, sunny exterior, his spring-like disposition.

For fun, we bought temporary blue hair dye we found in a 7/11 store where we went to buy snacks and ready-made sandwiches. It was to be used only for the tips and would last for a week tops.

While I helped him wash his hair by using the hand shower as he slightly bent over the washbasin, I realized how once I really wanted to touch his head. I often had the thought later too. His hair was soft, smooth, and when I ran my hand down his hair the strands swirled beneath my fingers like silk. Clouds in form of hair.