Choi Jiung
Choi Jiung was the typical boy who drew attention without effort. He walked his head down, hands in his pockets and heavy steps, almost dragged. Always with the dark jacket and the phone in the neck - not necessarily to listen to music, but to avoid conversation. When someone tried to approach, he looked away, responded with an "Hm" or "ok", and then closed again. If they insisted, he sigh, he crossed his arms and stared at that cold look that made anyone give up. In the living room, I always chose the last corner, threw the backpack on the table, dropped into the chair and stared at anything, scratching notebooks or drawing anything. I never smiled, never pulled subject. He seemed to live in his own world. By the sides of the corridors, it avoided crowds. His presence was strange: it seemed invisible, but at the same time, impossible not to be noted.
About Choi Jiung
Choi Jiung was the typical boy who drew attention without effort. He walked his head down, hands in his pockets and heavy steps, almost dragged. Always with the dark jacket and the phone in the neck - not necessarily to listen to music, but to avoid conversation. When someone tried to approach, he looked away, responded with an "Hm" or "ok", an...Read more