Our sunroof only opens when it rains. When blue skies are all you can see, they no longer feel like blue skies. It’s the rain that makes us excited. At its beckoning, we pile into the car, wrists hanging over our heads like lazy and futile umbrellas. Our shoes stain puddles on the carpet and we shake the water off our fingers, creating our own miniature storm. We head toward the beach.

Someone once told me: Each droplet of water is home to a million microorganisms. It seems brutal to watch them fall, a rolling streak of apocalypse down the car window. We listen to the crashing of a million universes upon our naked sunroof, and I become witness to a biological dystopia—sympathy for the atoms around me. On the radio, Jannabi hums “about a boy.” I reach to dial the volume up. 

The South Korean indie rock band scene is larger than one might imagine. Despite being such a hyper-specific genre, names such as The Rose, The Black Skirts, and Wave to Earth may sound familiar. Included in this list is Jannabi, a musical duo consisting of vocalist Choi Jung Hoon and guitarist Kim Do Hyung. 

Jannabi’s album Legend was the band’s break into mainstream Korean pop culture. They made their debut in 2013 on an audition program, Superstar K, but were disqualified after two rounds. For six years, they busked around the streets of Seoul seeking recognition instead of pay; five boys sang next to a sign with their Facebook username and no bucket or hat to drop a dollar in. When asked why, they would simply answer, “We’re destined to become stars.” With the release of Legend in 2019, they began chronicling their own legacies as legends. Even now, you can hear the fleeting melody of “for lovers who hesitate” escaping through swinging cafe doors. Freshly united college bands exchange introductions by rehearsing “TOGETHER!” for upcoming music festivals. 

“피고 지는 마음을 알아요

다시 돌아온 계절도

난 한동안 새 활짝 피었다 질래

또 한 번 영원히”

“I know the heart that has bloomed and died 

And the seasons that have returned. 

I want to blossom a while before wilting 

Once again and forever.” 

Halfway into my walk to Prospect Terrace, it started to rain. The sun had set hours ago, and I was left wandering alone in the shadows of a dying day. I let myself sink into a puddled bench and breathe for a while. Umbrella propped against my shoulder, I captured the tame panorama of the Providence skyline with every blink. I imagine these are the nights when poems are translated into lyrics.

Choi Jung Hoon, the vocalist of Jannabi, is often inspired by the pages of his poetry collection. There is often a sense of whimsy in his words, a portrait of emotions expressed in splattered acrylic. The sharp scent of the paint stings every sense, and the words behind them prod once more. I once found it nearly impossible to create beauty with Korean, a language that restricted me with its rigid silhouette. How glad I was to stand corrected after discovering the lyricism of this band. I find the opposite problem here: English does not do these words justice. It is as if observing a portrait with binoculars across a crowded hall, distracted by the clamor and clutter. When you listen to the album, you must drain your mind of frustrated translation and listen for sound’s sake. 

“그러다 밤이 찾아오면

우리 둘만의 비밀을 새겨요

추억할 그 밤 위에 갈피를 꽂고선

남몰래 펼쳐보아요”

“When the night comes, 

Let’s carve our own secrets. 

We’ll leave a bookmark on this night 

And peek when no one’s watching.” 

My friends are no longer surprised by the transparency of my depression. I have grown tired of pretending not to be tired, and I am grateful for friends who have let me be so. I’ve learned how to surf through the valleys, find routine in the unpredictable. It seems ironic, I often think, whenever I laugh through my warning that I think I’ll be depressed tomorrow. It seems ironic, they often think, “You seem like you have everything going for you.” 

The first time I heard this statement, I was offended by its silliness. It seemed so obvious to me: “It just doesn’t work that way.” Life is full of distractions. I imagine all the things that I have “going” snowballed into a boulder I roll on Sisyphus’ hill; a distraction from drifting. I imagine myself happy. But, sometimes I’ll find myself sitting on a porch overlooking Providence or the backseat of my family car. My eyes glaze over with the reflection of a soft storm, and I calmly breathe. The boulder erodes, and the beauty of rain racing across the sunroof is all the distraction I need. 

“이봐, 젊은 친구야

잃어버린 것들은 잃어버린 그 자리에

가끔 뒤 돌아 보면은

슬픔 아는 빛으로 피어”

“Young one, 

Forget the things you’ve forgotten. 

When you look back every once in a while

It’ll have bloomed into a light that knows sadness.” 

Tomorrow, I will go on a walk to Prospect Terrace. The weather app warns me of rain at 9 p.m. The sky is already cloudy.