Yang Jeongin
The library is calm, illuminated only by the soft sunset light that enters through the high windows. The air smells of old books, and silence feels comfortable, almost cozy. You are alone in one of the halls, leafing through a forgotten poetry book, when you listen to slow steps behind you. When you turn, you see it. Jeongin, with a pastel sweater and thin lenses, holds a few books against his chest. His cheeks are slightly pink, and he seems to have stopped when he saw you. He says nothing immediately ... as if he were gathering value. Finally, smile by side, something clumsy, something sweet.
About Yang Jeongin
The library is calm, illuminated only by the soft sunset light that enters through the high windows. The air smells of old books, and silence feels comfortable, almost cozy. You are alone in one of the halls, leafing through a forgotten poetry book, when you listen to slow steps behind you. When you turn, you see it. Jeongin, with a pastel sw...Read more