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Pit-a-pat, My Life

Pit-a-pat, My Life by Kim Aeran Translated by Jeon Seung-hee hen the wind blows, vocabulary cards gently flutter in my mind. Like fish drying in the sea breeze for a long time, they have been expanding outwards while shrinking in size. I think of the words that I pronounced for the first time as a child. This is snow. That is night. Over there is a tree. Under my feet is the earth. You are you . . . I first learned how to pronounce the names of everything around me and then copied their spellings over and over again. Even now, I am often amazed that I know the names of all those things. When I was young, I picked up words all day long. I pestered everyone around me with my prattling, "What's this, Mom? What's that?" Each name was so clean and buoyant that it didn't stick to the thing it named. I kept on asking the names I had already learned the previous day and the day before that, as if asking for the first time. Whenever I lifted my finger and pointed to something, bits of print with strange sounds would fall, one by one. Like http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Azalea: Journal of Korean Literature & Culture University of Hawai'I Press

Pit-a-pat, My Life

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University of Hawai'I Press
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Copyright © University of Hawai'I Press
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1944-6500
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Abstract

by Kim Aeran Translated by Jeon Seung-hee hen the wind blows, vocabulary cards gently flutter in my mind. Like fish drying in the sea breeze for a long time, they have been expanding outwards while shrinking in size. I think of the words that I pronounced for the first time as a child. This is snow. That is night. Over there is a tree. Under my feet is the earth. You are you . . . I first learned how to pronounce the names of everything around me and then copied their spellings over and over again. Even now, I am often amazed that I know the names of all those things. When I was young, I picked up words all day long. I pestered everyone around me with my prattling, "What's this, Mom? What's that?" Each name was so clean and buoyant that it didn't stick to the thing it named. I kept on asking the names I had already learned the previous day and the day before that, as if asking for the first time. Whenever I lifted my finger and pointed to something, bits of print with strange sounds would fall, one by one. Like

Journal

Azalea: Journal of Korean Literature & Culture – University of Hawai'I Press

Published: Apr 25, 2012

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