Please change quality to 1080p HD in setting menu.
In 2013, before leaving the United States for Korea, I created a kind of a secret space where I essentially talked to myself. As I quickly wrote down characters, they were buried in the mud made frosty by the chilly January air in Philadelphia. On the muddy ground, I relentlessly scribbled things that I would have minded sharing with others had it not been for my departure, which invoked complicated feelings in me.
At the same time, this idea of departure liberated me to think about myself deeply. In the film, I unfold my recollections of moving to, living in, and leaving from the United States, recalling the John F. Kennedy International Airport in New York as a metaphorical gate through which I undergo emotional turbulences.
I wanted to talk about the moment when we become in the mode of introspection, profoundly thinking and questioning about who I am and where I am going; It's this moment when we succumb to facing our inner-self sincerely.
A long time ago, when I was young enough to believe in many different things, I heard this story about a secret. When you open your secret, like saying it out loud in a thick forest where it doesn't reach anyone, you can bury your secret in it. In retrospect, I think I really believed in that. Instead of a dense forest, I found this cold January mud that graciously mingled and erased everything I wrote down.
While the frosty mud turned into a warm paste of earth, I recalled some good memories, some bad memories, and home.