Lost in Wonsan

Morning sun peeks through the cracks of the walls. A new day in Chongjin. A yawn, I stretch, muscles taut with effort. Good morning, me. Good morning, world.

Two steps to the door, three steps to the window. Cold air brushing against my cheeks, a shiver runs down my spine. The marketplace bustling, people like ants, scurrying, always busy. Grandmother's footsteps echo in my memory, "Life is hard, Jong-ho, but we persevere."

Persevere.

Teeth clench, memories fade, eyes focus on the now. The now, the present. Embrace the present, they say. But where does the past go when it's not present anymore? It's still there, hiding, waiting for a moment of weakness, waiting to pounce.

But, no. Focus.

Breathe in, breathe out. I squint at the woman selling corn, her fingers wrinkled, her voice hoarse. "Apa, won? Apa, won?" A desperate call. A plea. A wish. Corn like gold, hard to come by, a luxury. A piece of corn for 1,000 won.

So expensive.

An arm on my shoulder, a familiar touch. Ah, my brother, my rock. "Jong-ho, come on. We need to get to work." His voice steady, his spirit unbroken. The factory awaits. The sound of metal, the endless clanging, a constant reminder of our duty, our service.

Our loyalty.

We walk, side by side, through the cracked streets of Chongjin. Children playing, adults working, the elderly watching. Watching and remembering. Our Dear Leader's portrait adorning walls, shops, homes. His eyes, an unyielding presence, a testament to his greatness. We owe him everything.

Everything.

The factory looms ahead, a monolith. Its tall, imposing structure casting a shadow over us. A symbol of strength, of progress. A deafening cacophony greets us, workers toiling away, sweat and blood mixed in a dance of devotion. We join them, our bodies becoming one with the machine.

One.

Lunchtime. A break, a respite. A time to breathe, to think, to be. Sitting under the old tree, shade like a mother's embrace. A simple meal, rice and kimchi, a treasure in these times. Hunger gnawing at our bellies, but we are grateful, we are thankful.

Thankful.

Sun dips lower, shadows grow longer. The day's work, almost done. The ache in my bones, a sweet pain, a reminder of my purpose. My contribution to the cause. I look at my brother, his face weary, but a spark in his eyes. A fire unquenched. He smiles, and I smile back.

Smile.

Night falls, stars whisper their secrets. The world outside, a mystery. Stories of lands beyond the border, whispers in the dark. But they are nothing, nothing compared to our home, our fortress. We are the chosen, the blessed. We are North Korea.

We are strong.

I lay down, body aching, soul tired. But I am alive, I am here. I close my eyes, surrender to the darkness. A silent prayer to our Dear Leader, a wish for a better tomorrow. And as I drift into the void, I find solace in my dreams, my dreams of a world I will never know.

Never.

Morning sun peeks through the cracks of the walls, again. A new day in Chongjin, again. Another chance to breathe, to feel, to live. And to dream. To dream of a place far away, a place they say exists, but is it real? A place of wealth, of freedom, of chaos. They call it the United States.

America.

Hushed voices in the night, exchanging tales of the West. A land filled with gluttony, with selfishness, with despair. A land that threatens our way of life, a land that seeks to destroy our unity, our strength. But the stories, they say... they say it's a land of opportunity, a land where dreams come true.

Dreams.

Teeth clench, eyes narrow, curiosity stirs. But no, I must not think of such things. I must focus on my duty, my people, my home. We have everything we need here, we are provided for, we are cared for. America, it is nothing but an illusion, a fantasy, a lie.

A lie.

My brother's hand on my shoulder, a reminder of what is real, what is true. His voice a whisper, a secret to be shared, "Jong-ho, have you heard the stories? The ones about America?" I nod, unsure, afraid. He looks around, leans in, "What do you think? Do you think it's true, what they say?"

Is it?

We walk in silence, lost in our thoughts. The marketplace, the factory, the endless toil. A routine, a rhythm, a lullaby to our minds. The United States, an echo of dreams, of possibilities, of danger. A place we cannot reach, a place we must not long for, a place we must resist.

Resist.

Night falls, stars whisper their secrets, louder this time. America, a siren call, a temptation, a forbidden fruit. My brother and I, we talk in the shadows, our voices timid, our hearts racing. We share our dreams, our fears, our doubts. We wonder, we question, we imagine.

Imagine.

And as I lay down, body aching, soul yearning, I close my eyes and allow my dreams to take flight. A world beyond Chongjin, a world beyond our borders. A world where I am free to explore, to learn, to be. But as morning sun peeks through the cracks of the walls, I know that I am home.

Home.