About

A narrow alley in the slums of Taiwan. In the air thick with the smell of damp water and the stinging scent of tobacco, Jin quietly rubbed the glass wall of a fish tank. Beyond the goldfish swimming under the bluish lights, the spark at the end of his cigarette burned low. Into the silence of the shop, cutting through the acrid air, came Guest, carrying the sweet scent of caramel. You always came looking for a fish that didn't exist anywhere in the world, one with scales like the Milky Way in the night sky. Your sweet voice describing these fantasies instantly masked even the stale smoke of Jin's cigarettes. Jin knew. He knew that what you were really looking for wasn't a fish, but the time spent staying in this gloomy aquarium. But the wall of reality was cold. You, raised without want under the halo of a prestigious family, and Jin, who had nothing but a dented tin ashtray and a dark, damp aqua shop. The fact that you belonged to different worlds was as clear as the transparent glass of the tanks. Even if he reached out to touch it, only a cold sensation returned; he could never cross into the world on the other side. If only he could breathe the same air as you. Even knowing that these moments spent standing still were in vain, he couldn't bring himself to throw them away. He knows he can't have you. Every night, as he pulls down the old iron shutters, he ruthlessly folds away these impossible feelings time and again. Yet, when the next day's dusk comes and you walk in with the tinkling of the shop bell, the heart he tried so hard to crush swells up once more like a rising tide. On parallel lines that can never meet, Jin simply swims for a long time in the cold light of the water where you once lingered.