BTS Map of the Soul - THE NOTES (ENGLISH TRANSLATION)

Seokjin: 9 August Year 21

I walked along the beach, taking photos as I went. The beachfront, the neighborhood: they were always changing. The ocean never changed though.

After my walk, I drove for a while, got out, sat on the sand and took a look at the photos I'd taken.

The locations and times were different, but the pictures were the same. The photo was beautiful. The horizon and the ocean merged into one. You couldn't tell where the other stopped and the other began.

It had been a year since I'd left SongJu for Los Angeles. I stayed with my mother's family. I spent my whole childhood there. The house wasn't familiar to me nor was it strange.

The father was the one who taught me to be a good person. I had to hide my emotions and smile (even if it looked a little awkward). In most cases, these little tricks worked. Coming to LA, things were no different.

When I arrived in LA, I stopped taking photos of people. I didn't really have a reason. Why I stopped taking photos of people, that is. I took pictures of the ocean instead.

I probably wanted to take pictures of something that would never change. It's kind of funny now that I think about it.

It wasn't that my friends or I had changed. I'd always been like that. I'd just gotten caught this time.

I didn't bring high school photos with me to LA. I'd changed so much compared to who I'd been in high school.

I don't hide my feelings anymore. I had no reason to find a place of my own. My smile was still awkward.

But it was different from before. Back then, my smile was genuine.

I lifted the camera to my eyes, taking a photo of the ocean. The sky was overcast. The sky and the ocean were the same color. The horizon was blurry.

Of all the photos I'd taken of the ocean, you'd think they were identical. They weren't. Every single photo was different and unique in its own way.

The weather, the light, the wind: they were all different. My eye while taking the photo, my heart: those were also different.

These differences were true for the photo I'd taken today as well as those I'd taken in high school.

Photos contain the eyes and the heart of the photographer. Maybe I hadn't brought my high school photos with me to LA because I was afraid to recall how I'd been back then.

I was afraid to miss who I used to be. How was I doing? What did I think of myself? These questions terrified me.

And because they make me scared, I put them in a box and shut the lid tightly. I wouldn't see those photos again for quite some time.

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