I have finished reading "Museum of the Heart," the new collection of essays by author Hwang Ju-ri. While her perspective remains that of a warm observer of the world, her reflections on death have deepened significantly in this book. 

The author recalls a line from a drama about feeling as though one has won a race whenever a friend dies, and she revisits her childhood, when she was gripped by the fear of death while watching her beloved grandmother.

She recalls the death of a cute puppy kept at the local electronics store, contemplates the 500,000 lives lost in the war in Ukraine, and reflects on the 9/11 World Trade Center attacks that occurred two days before her birthday during her time living in New York.

In one instance, she even dreams of conspiring with a "stranger" to kill another "stranger." She feels overwhelmed with despair in the face of a reality (which is actually a dream) where she would surely face "a 30-year prison sentence" or "life imprisonment," and even her younger brother, who passed away long ago, appears to gaze at her with sad eyes. At that moment, she wakes up.

"I had never had such a sad dream before. Even within the dream, there was nothing more miserable than that. Upon waking, all my worries in the world had vanished. I felt only gratitude; there was no one left to hate."

Whose gift was that? To experience hell as if it were reality and then to be released from it—isn't that what heaven is? In that way, it seems the author was able to escape the worries and stresses of her reality. 

"When I felt that death was far away, death was to me either a decoration I hadn't yet received or merely a bit of vanity."

Just as the author says, death has also been a trigger on the other side of the hill for me. It is aimed at me, but at a distance too far to strike. At that exact distance, it was nothing more than a standby force waiting to be used as a literary device whenever needed.

However, as I grow older and feel that hill drawing closer, death has begun to become a reality of life. The trigger is right before my eyes! This is why I had no choice but to cherish every page of Hwang Ju-ri’s "Museum of the Heart." It is, after all, my story as well.

Reading her work brought to mind the phrases "Memento mori" (remember you must die) and "Carpe Diem" (seize the day).

It is said that in ancient Rome, when a victorious general held a triumphal parade, a slave was made to follow him, whispering "Memento mori!" Do not get carried away just because you have won the war. You are a winner today, but eventually, you will die. Therefore, our task is Carpe Diem—to be fully present in the moment.

"On days with beautiful weather, I feel good for a moment and then suddenly, fear sets in. The fear of failure that might ruin such a beautiful day. But perhaps living is merely a succession of failures cloaked in the illusion of success?"

As the first lines of the book’s preface suggest, perhaps we are destined to live lives that only succeed in failing. But what can we do? "Let us endure all the ups and downs of life and live for a very long time."

Author Hwang Ju-ri [Photo by Reporter Lim Yo-hee]

Reporter Lim Yo-hee