last night i biked towards anpyeong 安平, a town of old country roads, and smells of burnt grass and decomposing organic matter. i turned towards jangsan mountain and the street soon became a dirt road. then it was just the light of my torch and the narrowing path in front of me. as things got creepier i started thinking about old dokkebis cooking stew in their little skull-strewn caves.  i smelled a slow brewing cauldron somewhere near by. i inspected the treeline with my headlamp and a pair of cat eyes glowed back at me from the jungle. the road ended at a metal gate where i assume a dokkebi and its pet cat lived. it had cctv. i heard a low rumble. i looked back and in the distance i saw a train of the elevated line four quietly slither on the tracks above the empty street.