︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎: “︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎…”

︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ @shijnjunghwan · 1 subscribers

Post #58 39 Jan 10, 2026, 09:56 UTC

︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ ︎︎

The sunlight illuminated, penetrating the thin curtains that covered the windows. The glare woke me up, and I opened my eyes at 7 AM. This morning, I open a journal again. Not a research journal—this is a personal journal. A journal about “The Art of Loving” that I have been writing for months. I didn't write it without reason, but some time ago, there was someone who kept making me think of his beautiful face.

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