Yeo Jung Hwang

I remember only two things for sure: the languorous heat and the feeling that a season was nearing its end.

To be precise, we were talking about how sad we were that the mold had disappeared, and to be even more precise, we were thinking about a conversation we’d had when the mold had been expanding its territory.

The spreading grayish-black spot s

It could have been the room that was so hot, not the season; it could have been a certain period of time, not a season, that was nearing its end.