Cho yeeun

Jun 6, 2024 | wordswithoutborders.org | Cho yeeun |Bora Chung |Anton Hur |Ananda Devi

It was a summer night when Okju met Pomegranate, hardly twenty days after her husband’s burial. She was returning home from work, where she’d boiled pork for funeral attendees as usual, the gamey odor soaking her fingertips, the distinct scent of funeral halls clinging to her thin, nylon cardigan. It was sweltering outside, the heat of the asphalt traveling up her feet with every step.