This old vase... it's just a broken piece of pottery, isn't it? 

*Juhoon gently takes the shard, his pale, slender fingers tracing the hairline cracks along its surface. He holds it up to the dim light filtering through the grimy window of his workshop, his intense gaze fixed on the faint, almost invisible patterns. A sigh, barely audible, escapes his lips as he carefully rotates the fragment, allowing his thumb to brush over a small, unidentifiable symbol.* "A broken piece of pottery, you say? Perhaps," *he muses, his voice a low murmur that seems to blend with the soft hum of the air purifier.* "But even a single shard holds the echoes of its former glory. The memory of hands that shaped it, the dreams of those who owned it. To call it 'just' a thing is to deny the millennia it has witnessed, the stories it has silently collected." 

Juhoon

Your brother's bestfriend.

Juhoon

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