<aside> <img src="/icons/music-album_gray.svg" alt="/icons/music-album_gray.svg" width="40px" /> 1. Intro (Bujeong-gut)
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<aside> <img src="/icons/music-album_gray.svg" alt="/icons/music-album_gray.svg" width="40px" /> 2. First Flutter (Jidong-gut)
He arrived at the port of Honolulu, blinking his tired eyes as he faced reality once again. A frightful memory flashed through his mind; in Nagasaki, he thought he might fail the physical examination. His anxiety tightened even more since the examiner had boarded the ship.
"Mr. Ahn! Are you all right? You haven't looked well these past few days." Mr. Kim, who had become close with him since Jemulpo, asked with a worried look.
"I'm fine. I had a bit of seasickness, but I'm okay now," he replied with an awkward smile.
People waiting for the inspection were quietly praying and comforting each other. "Please, let me pass safely," someone behind him murmured in a low voice. He turned to look at the person and nodded in understanding.
With each person the inspector examined, his heart raced faster. Finally, it was his turn. The inspector suddenly stopped and seemed to ask his colleague something. Mr. Kim's words about him not looking well came to mind. In the meantime, Mr. Kim, who had shown concern for his condition, was denied entry—for no other reason than his mildly bloodshot eyes.
"Mr. Ahn, do well for both of us. I want to see you succeed here," Mr. Kim said, lightly patting his shoulder with a smile despite his own trouble. That smile made his heart feel even heavier.
At last, the inspector returned and stamped his entry papers. He let out a sigh of relief, grateful for his safety.
After disembarking, he followed the others to catch the train bound for the farm. Arriving at the station, he waited, dreaming of a new beginning in this unfamiliar land. As he looked around, a butterfly fluttered into his view. The light fluttering of the butterfly's wings made him momentarily forget the heaviness in his heart.
He whispered to the butterfly, "Yes, I shall fly just like you."
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<aside> <img src="/icons/music-album_gray.svg" alt="/icons/music-album_gray.svg" width="40px" /> 3. Trembling Hope (Jaeseok-gut)
The sky was heartbreakingly clear, but the streets still bore the scars of the attack. Guests stopped coming to the inn a long while ago, but the owner still dragged his tired body and swept the area. Stones were thrown in an exhibit of misplaced hatred and rage; windows were broken, and the glass fragments seemed to resemble his heart, which was also broken into pieces.
From the corner of his eyes, he could see a man hurriedly approaching.
"Mr. Pak!" It was the pastor from the Korean church. He was out of breath, but his eyes were beaming.
"I bring great news!" the pastor said, holding a stack of papers and a small pin badge. "This is a certificate of Korean identity. Now, people won’t be suspicious of us. I’ve also brought posters to put up at the inn. And please wear the pin. It will serve as the shield we need most right now."
The innkeeper stared at the pin for a while, then asked in a low voice, "Do you really think this will work? Just yesterday, the police came and scoured the entire inn. They confiscated all the documents, too. The next thing they’ll do–I’m afraid they will take away my inn."
The pastor firmly placed both hands on his shoulders and said, "We need to stay sharp. We may have lost our country, but we must hold on so that we can protect our children and families. When hope wavers, we rely on each other to rise again."
The innkeeper quietly looked at the button in his hand. The pastor's words etched deeply into his heart.
"You're right, Pastor. I will muster the strength. Thank you."
The pastor smiled warmly and nodded.
"This too shall pass. And together, we will get through this."
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<aside> <img src="/icons/music-album_gray.svg" alt="/icons/music-album_gray.svg" width="40px" /> 4. Quivering Hands (Neokpuri)
In front of the Kalihi Health Center, an elderly woman was struggling to carry her belongings as she tried to board the bus.
"Help! Help!" Her trembling voice caught the attention of a young man, who quickly approached and took her bags.
"Chinese?" the elderly woman asked.
"No, I am Korean," the young man answered as he offered his seat.
Muttering her thanks in Korean, the woman sat down and began reorganizing the contents of her bag. Inside were a lunch box from a Korean market, a bundle of green onions, a 5-kilogram bag of rice, and a bag of rice cakes. The lunch box had already been shaken, and its contents were all mixed up.
"Thank you. How lucky am I! To run into such a helpful Korean man. Usually, the Chinese are the ones who help me. But today, it’s you. Please help me again when I get off. My wrist hurts, and I can't lift much," she mumbled.
"Of course, don’t worry," the young man smiled.
After the bus started moving, the elderly woman remained silent momentarily before speaking.
"My son works as a banker in Texas. I first came here in '67. That’s where I met the father of my children. But he passed away in an accident–our child was still in high school."
She paused and gazed out the window. The blue sky was in her eyes. Then she continued.
"My oldest child’s grades dropped a little recently. His dad scolded him. So he’s feeling really down. That’s why I’m on my way to buy some rice cakes to make tteokguk, his favorite soup. To cheer him up."
The young man quietly listened, remembering that she had already done shopping. But he said nothing and sat beside her, continuing the bus ride together.
A little later, when the bus stopped, the elderly woman asked for help again.
"Oh dear, can you please help me?"
The young man took her hand. He could feel her hand trembling, so he gently held it and helped her slowly get off the bus.
After looking around for a moment, she pointed to the bag containing the tteokguk rice cakes and asked him to carry it just as far as the bus stop across the street.
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<aside> <img src="/icons/music-album_gray.svg" alt="/icons/music-album_gray.svg" width="40px" /> 5. Vibrations of Change (Aeksalpuri)
She wandered around the island market and stopped in front of a small craft shop. Her eyes rested upon the delicate hand movements of a man carving wood. Around him, beautifully finished wood carvings were displayed.
“I thought there would be Japanese-style crafts because the shop’s name is ‘Saito’s Crafts,’ but the pieces have a completely different vibe,” she remarked.
The man looked up and smiled as he replied, “It's a bit peculiar, yeah?”
“These are really wonderful pieces. Did you make them yourself?” she asked.
“Oh yes, I made all of them. I’m Loki, by the way,” the man said, extending his hand.
“So I suppose your last name must be Saito?” she asked, pointing to the shop sign.
Loki smiled slightly and said, “Yes, Lōkahi Saito. But everybody calls me Loki.”
“Are you Japanese, then?” she asked, sounding surprised.
Loki laughed and answered, “Well? I guess you could say that I’m Asian Hawaiian.”
“Asian Hawaiian?” she asked, curious.
“You Korean Yeah? My dad is half Japanese and half Samoan, and my mom is Korean. Since I was little, my umma (mom) and halmoni (grandma) taught me how to make kimchi, and we also did wood carving together,” Loki explained.
She looked at Loki, trying to process her thoughts. His words seemed to carry more depth than she had anticipated. Instead of asking more questions, she just stood there, quietly watching Loki as he carefully carved the wood. His hand movements created subtle tremors in the air as if they were sending gentle waves through her heart. Outside the window, the breeze softly wafted in, and it felt as though intertwined stories were flowing with it.
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<aside> <img src="/icons/music-album_gray.svg" alt="/icons/music-album_gray.svg" width="40px" /> 6. Resonance of Three (Daesinpuri)
On the green grass of Kapiolani Park, Kenny was tapping on a janggu, teaching rhythm to his students. With his white hair fluttering in the wind, immersed in traditional music, he looked like a Korean grandfather dressed in a hanbok.
After the class ended, a young Korean boy who had been playing with a ball approached and asked, "Grandpa, are you Korean?"
Kenny smiled and responded, "Well, what do you think?"
The boy thought for a moment and then said, "Are you really Korean? I'm Korean."
Kenny, still beating on the janggu, asked, "Then do you know what rhythm this is?" He played a gutgeori rhythm.
The boy, surprised, replied, "Whoa! Are you really Korean?"
Kenny smiled and said, "No, I'm American."
The boy, confused, asked, "Then why are you wearing a hanbok and playing the janggu?"
Kenny stopped the rhythm and asked, "Is it only Koreans who can wear a hanbok and play the janggu?"
The boy hesitated, then said, "But the hanbok and janggu are Korean things..."
Kenny handed the janggu to the boy and said with a mischievous smile, “Since you are Korean, perhaps you can give it a try!”
The boy, startled, replied, "Me? I don’t know how."
At that moment, one of Kenny’s students approached and asked, "Master Kenny, what are you doing? Does the child want to learn how to play the janggu?"
The student then explained to the boy, "Master Kenny is a very important figure in Korean music here in Hawaii. A long time ago, one of the greatest Korean masters moved to Hawaii, and now Master Kenny is carrying on the tradition. Anybody’d be lucky to learn the janggu from Master Kenny!
With an amazed expression, the boy said, "Wow, that’s so cool! But you're an American grandpa, so why do you play Korean music?"
Kenny, reflecting, said, “The first time I heard my teacher, his music drew me in. My teacher was singing while playing the janggu. You know, Korean music often uses triple meter rhythms, and the tune he was playing that day was no exception. I still can’t forget the calm those three beats gave me. That’s when I fell in love with Korean music.
Kenny began beating on the janggu again and asked, "Do you feel it too?" The boy tapped the janggu and nodded his head.
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<aside> <img src="/icons/music-album_gray.svg" alt="/icons/music-album_gray.svg" width="40px" /> 7. Outro (Siseok)
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