SHANTAL JEEWON KIM

Crescent

☾^************

^{but the tip of it,}

^{ever been a monotonous line,}

^{unfurls and splits into two,}

^{drawing an arc,}

^{like it is trying to embrace the circle,}

^{stretching the arms,}

^indefinitely

There

slit

time

As usual, trying to get the thread through the needle hole of the sewing machine. Closing one eye helps. Depth flattening as I close my left eye, rolling the end of the thread to make it hard with my fingers. Sometimes licking it helps. Pushing the thread through the hole, which would never be successful on the first try. Taking around 5 minutes in general. I start my chore.

It is a suspiciously cool summer night as I walk back home. Those who didn’t expect a temperature drop could even perceive it as chilly. I brew a cup of tea as I decompress at home. I stand next to the window holding my mug. The night is dark as the moon is waning. Soon it’s the new moon.

The moon, almost as thin as the yarn, looks like a cut in the dark body of the night: a sharp stab with a knife –

Bang!

Startled, I lose my grip. I look down the window, and there is a person, wearing a black cloak and a black hat, walking backward. And I see him holding a rifle, holding it with his one arm straight. The fume still hot, coming out of the muzzle. He retrieves it into his cloak. And he turns.

It was just a second, but it feels like an eon.

Our eyes meet.

It is not a he. Tucking her body deeper in her cloak, she
swiftly runs away, between the buildings, to the darkness.

Only then do I feel my toes burning, with the hot tea spilled, and the mug is rolling in the corner of the room.

^{And there is a slit in time.}

^{I watch its crack in a crescent shape, getting bigger and bigger, enough for my body to fit. Iridescent light flows out of the crack, wetting my feet. I step inside and indulge myself in the beaming light.}

^▜

^shape:

^{long and narrow}

^{square attached to the tall rectangle shape}

^categorical:

^{1 living room}

^{1 bedroom}

^{1 bathroom}

^{1 kitchen}

^clockwise:

^{9 o’clock: the front door}

^{11 o’clock: the living room}

^{1 o’clock: the room}

^{3 o’clock: the bathroom}

^{5 o’clock: the kitchen}

^relational:

^{the front door connected to the living room}

^{living room is diagonal to the kitchen}

^{bedroom adjacent to the living room and kitchen}

^{bathroom next to the bedroom and the kitchen}

^{size ratio:}

^{{living room} W = 5/9 H}

^{{bedroom} W = 1/2 H}

^{{bathroom} W = 1/2 H}

^{{kitchen} W = 5/6 H}

^{{corridor between living room & kitchen} W = 3/4 H}

, the next day after witnessing gunfire, I move to another place, to somewhere that no one knows where I am from, to somewhere no one could find me as a witness to what happened in the town, where the crescent moon gunfire occurred, as I shall never have to say anything about the night, holding every drip of the cool night air in my cup.

^{One – right – backward – from toe to heel – slow – small}

^{Two – left – backward – from toe to heel – slow – small}

^{Three – right – backward – from toe to heel – slow – small}

^{Four – left – backward – the whole foot – slow – middle}

^{Five – right – backward – from heel to toe – quick – small}

^{Six and Seven – left – backward – from heel to toe – quick – small – pivoting outwards – heel anchor – toe landing}

^{Eight- right – forward – from heel to toe – quick – middle}

^{Nine – right – forward – from heel to toe – quick – small}

^(pause)

^{Ten – left – forward – from heel to toe – quick – big}

^{Eleven – right- forward – from heel to toe – quicker – big}

^{Twelve – left – forward – from heel to toe – quicker – bigger}

^{Thirteen- right – forward – from heel to toe – quicker – bigger}

^{Fourteen – left – diagonal – from heel to toe – quicker – bigger}

^{Fifteen – right – forward – from heel to toe – quicker – bigger}

^{Sixteen – left – forward – from heel to toe – quicker – bigger}

^{Seventeen – right – forward – from heel to toe – quicker – bigger}

^{Eighteen – left – forward – from heel to toe – quicker – bigger}

^{Nineteen – right – forward – from heel to toe – quicker – bigger}

^{[step – score]}

With such a hasty move, I only found a shitty place.

I climb up the narrow staircase to the 5th floor,

almost like an attic.

Low ceiling with a weird pillar out of nowhere in the middle of it.

^Tea

^{Pumpkin spice (no caffeine)}

^85℃

^{5 mins (over-brewed)}

^{clear, red-brown}

^{a thin layer of oil sparkling}

^{spicy, warm, silky, sweet}

^Mug

^blue

^{matt glaze}

^{Olpe vase shape with a flat handle}

^warm

^Crash!

^Room

^{wet floor}

^{broken mug, into two pieces (weird),}

^{almost exactly in half, except for one part with a handle and one not}

^{brown stain}

^{cinnamony smell}

^{The cloak made with}

^{four clothing patterns:}

^{the collar,}

^{the right and left parts from the front}

^{the big back part}

^{It was velvet}

^{with short dark fur}

^{and a blue undertone}

^{bearing its brightness unseen to most}

^{It glides in the air like ocean waves}

^{pounding the moonlight into a million pieces}

^{It shines, glistens}

^{minced into split seconds}

^{it unfolds its deepest}

^{to the chosen one}

^{The collar stands high,}

^{up to the cheekbone}

^{It must have some stiff lining inside}

^{It covers the profile}

^{Tied around her neck,}

^{it moves slower than the body,}

^{showing the trajectory}

^{of the earlier direction it stayed}

^{while waving to me}

Shantal Jeewon Kim is a writer and visual artist based in South Korea and the United States. She studied Art & Technology and Psychology at Sogang University (Seoul, Korea) and is a graduate of the Image Text MFA from Ithaca College (NY, USA). She conceptually explores the intersection of memory, melancholy, and translation, exploring both art and experimental text media. Her writing has been published by Tarpaulin Sky magazine, ALOCASIA, and her image-text monograph has been published by Fifth Wheel Press. Her poetry book, Double Exclusion, was published in 2024 by Gasher Press