A Piece of Rainbow Blooming in a Gray Landscape

Between a hanok’s roof and cloudy sky, stillness resides. In its quiet presence, I find myself again—softly, gently, fully.

The curved lines of a hanok roof open gently toward the sky.

When a cloudy sky spreads above it,

time seems to flow just a little slower.

The roof is firm, yet soft.

The layered tiles feel like stacked memories.

Standing beneath them, my heart becomes quiet.

The world’s noise fades, leaving only this moment.

Each tile holds a trace of the past,

the breath of artisans from long ago.

Their flawless precision speaks silently

of centuries of cultural grace.

Where the roof edges meet,

I gaze up at the sky.

It doesn’t need to be clear.

Even a single streak of light between clouds is enough.

Hanok is a space you feel without explanation.

Through wooden textures and the breeze through lattice doors,

it even holds the soul.

Everything moves slowly here.

Some may call it dull,

but in that slowness,

I rediscover my breath.

In our fast lives,

we often lose ourselves.

But the stillness of a hanok

brings me back to me.

Between the roof and the sky,

in that narrow space, stillness stays.

And in this stillness, I feel embraced.

Just like this moment.