We Do Not Part

by Han Kang

I’m sure the last three to four years of my life as recorded there must resemble a snail coming out of its shell to push along a knife’s edge.

When someone who hasn’t slept soundly in a while, who is stumbling through a period of nightmares blurring with reality, chances across a scene that defies belief, they may well initially doubt themselves.

received Inseon’s text message,

Inseon, who happened to be the same age as me.

Sliced my fingers off, with the electric saw,

Snow had an unreality to it. Was this because of its pace or its beauty?

When you’ve known someone a good while, you intuit when it’s best not to speak.

soldiers and police had murdered everyone in her village.

The strangest thing, snow, I recall Inseon saying. Had she been picturing scenes similar to the ones I’d imagined? How does something like that fall from the sky? she’d

Has the day already dawned? Or am I dreaming? No, this is no dream.

Can saw blades ward off nightmares?

Each time I pass out, a sharp dream splinters in.

You have to keep an eye on them even when they look fine, Kyungha.

What are we calling it? Our project.

We Do Not Part, I answered.

The only vitality I can detect is in her eyes, which are open toward the camera.

the stillness.

flamethrowers that soldiers deployed on unarmed citizens in the streets.