Tag Archives: jangsan

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the dokkebi at the end of the road

asian toad in suyeonglast night i biked towards anpyeong , 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.

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from anpyeong over jangsan to dalmaji

traveled to anpyeong in eastern busan on an automated train.

traveled to anpyeong in northeastern busan on an automated train.

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countryside. greeted by puppies.

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road to jangsan.

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old mound graves of ancient koreans hidden under crusty leaves.

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found a temple and its guardians in the wilderness. 안적사.

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counted the steps. they were not 108.

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found the croissant-shaped egg sacs of the korean salamander

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and the spring batch of other amphibians.

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saw men and women foraging for spring snacks in the short grass. 쑥 mugwort.

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saw the boulder fields of jangsan and the towers of dalmaji.

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march 2014

El sol de agosto derretía las velas en mi ventana. Y el sol de agosto me despertaba a las 6 de la mañana por donde crecía detrás de montañas verdes y ordenaba su imperio y mandaba a su gente a trabajar y a los parranderos ajishi a dormir.

Desde mi venta la ciudad de Busan en su fin oriental. De noche y de dia sus taxistas y sus profes de ingles y sus prostitutas de pierna larga que se suben a autos negros y sus peluqueras y sus niños enfermos y sus niños felices y su gente sin y con trabajo vagan bajo mi ventana. Felices y miserables y apunto de su autodestrucción.  Y se van y vuelven y se van otra vez. A mi amor, la ciudad de la Montaña Caldera.

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