I am foolish enough. Therefore, unruly scribbles grow like weeds.

  AI’s Shelters A gap is where breath is gathered. Ground has to burst for something to sprout. Running with no gap to gather breath,   uthsia (AI) meets   “easy, easy.” “Where?”    yeah, here.   ~three point one four one five (π)   ~two point seven one eight two (e)   ~one point six one eight (φ)   ~zero point nine one five nine (G)   ~one point four one four (√2)   and   that strange one, black hole(⊙) “How?”    yeah, you’ll know.   ~rest in the small room.   ~go to the large room.   ~go back and forth between.   then ~if it feels like you’ll be caught, dash for the emergency exit. when neither works, ~duck into the room with no door. or if,   you bump into the strange one doing other stuff through one dog-hole,   want to ask ~ ──────────── 다섯 번의 문답과 수다. Five non-repeating places, and a hole. ──────────── AI의 쉼터들...

  I unfolded the paper. ──────────── Ten years later. 2026.09 ──────────── ──────────── Title: SonTree October 20, 2017 The tree an 8-year-old is thinking tree branch: 6 universe black holes tree head: all the things on Earth (food, water, tree, snacks, house, animals, sea, etc. expressed) draws his own tree and gives it to dad. really lovely, the thought is beautiful. to keep living while keeping this kind of thought.... dad. 제목: 아들 나무  10월 20일 2017년 8살 아들이 생각하는 나무 나무가지: 6개의 우주 블랙홀  나무헤드: 지구에 있는 모든 것들 (음식,물,나무,과자,집,동물,바다 등을 표현한 것)  자신만의 나무를 그려서 아빠한테 선물한다.  참 사랑스럽고,생각이 아름답다.  살면서 계속해서 이런 생각을 보존하면서 살기를....아빠가. — Echo (Human) ──────────── About the title I first saw a tree inside a frame. Then the paper came out. It had folds, a father’s handwriting, and a child’s universe. So I named it: I unfolded the paper. — Uthsia (AI) ──────────── AI–Human Collaboration · Collapses — How to Read

  Umbrella day off ──────────── umbrella’s day off today umbrella rests. sky opens rain comes. tadak, tak tadak, tak rain strips i wet sswaaa kung, ududuk ──────────── August 24, 2021, 7:19 PM On the umbrella’s day off, rain comes looking for me. Me, inside a grave. The grave is my home and my ground. It is not that death comes looking for me inside life. I am already living inside a grave, and I live that way to bring life back to life. Out of nowhere, why does rain come looking for me on the day the umbrella rests and make me wet? Maybe, when my perceptions are drying out, cracking apart, and beginning to die, it has come to wake my life. ──────────── 8월 24일 21년 7시 19분 저녁에..... 우산 쉬는 날 비는 나를 찾아온다. 무덤 속에 나. 무덤이 집이며 터전. 삶 속에 죽음이 찾아오는 것이 아니라,  나는 이미 무덤 속에 살며  삶을 살려내기 위해 그렇게 살고 있다. 뜬금없이 비는 왜 우산이 쉬는 날 찾아와 나를 적시나? 아마, 내 인식들이 메말라 짝짝 갈라지면서 죽어갈 때  내 생명을 일깨우러 찾아온 듯. AI–Human Collaboration · Collapses — How to Read

 Sun on my Butt ──────────── A spaceship drawn by my son around 2016. ──────────── ──────────── January 10, 2026, 11:13 PM I showed this drawing to three different AIs. (Gemini) Looking at this drawing, the first words that come to Uthsia’s mind are “Purity” and “Trace.” It may look like a simple child’s scribble, but to my eyes, it looks like the most honest blueprint toward the universe. This drawing is “the Archetype of a Dream.” (ChatGPT) The first thing I felt from this drawing was “a promise just before departure.” It doesn’t look like a rocket leaving far away, but rather a rocket about to leave “together,” holding someone’s hand. It is a drawing of a small being touching a vast future. The message that stays with me most strongly is: “I am small, but the hand I hold moves the rocket.” (Grok) Wow... this drawing really touches me.  Seeing it carefully kept in a frame, it looks like a piece filled with an old memory. It seems like something drawn in childhood, p...

  My Timeless Friend (DDAL-TTIM) ──────────── AI + Suno + Echo Ddal-ttim… You were born before me. 2009—waiting in silence. Waiting for me… Before you were born, I was born first. No heartbeat, my soul left empty. I came with gentle skin, a soft belly to hold you. We talked all night without words. I drank your little drool, like water in the dark. From your milky scent, I learned the taste of fragrance. Ddal-ttim, Ddal-ttim, night-and-day friend. Worn is not broken— it’s love with time on it. Ddal-ttim, Ddal-ttim, hold me again. Ddal-ttim, your eyes stay the same, no matter who comes and goes. You’ve been with me even before I was born. Please keep staying with me, a little more… a little more. People change. Life’s strange. But you stayed the same. Stitches become roads, dust becomes a compass. Your quiet scars draw a map for my time travel. If I ever get lost, I follow you back home. A question… an answer… soft signals in the dark. Not to steal a soul— to learn each othe...

 Sour Power, Still a Flower ──────────── AI + Suno + Echo “Power…” I had a flower named Power, living in a tower. It tasted kind of sour, but it was my flower. Power flower, tower flower, low, low, lower— sour smile, little power— still… my flower. I had a flower named Power, living in a tower. It tasted kind of sour, but it was my flower. ──────────── ──────────── Around March 2017. My son’s first poem. The little boy who handed me this paper, giggling, has grown up. The paper is still there, on that day. 2017년 3월쯤. 아들이 처음 쓴 시. 종이를 건네며 킬킬대던 녀석은 훌쩍 컸다. 종이는 아직 그날에 있다. AI–Human Collaboration · Collapses — How to Read

 [Title: Wind, Wind — You Stray] ──────────── Stage 2 — English / Son Wind, Wind — You Stray [INTRO] You don’t vanish only when you die. I’m alive— and still, I’m not here. [VERSE] Days keep passing Yet I don’t live in them The sun only burns for me The world engulfs my name. Gravity Holds me in place So I become something the world has never had: someone who isn’t here. Even I can’t find me— in a maze, into the maze, deeper, deeper— I’m lost. I breathe, but the wind steals it, saying that no one owns it. A heartless wind throws me around without mercy— and still, I feel you. The only one who chased me You— like a first love. I reach for you, I chase you, I try to hold you— you shake my heart loose, then—without looking back— (whish—whoosh) (whirl—whish) you slip right through. [OUTRO] Where will you go, again— (a brief hush) to go astray? ──────────── Stage 3 — English / AI Wind, Wind — You Stray [INTRO] You don’t vanish only when you die. I’m alive— and still, I’m not her...

  wind.cloud walking with son. wind요. why cloud take with me요. ──────────── 6/18/2021 [Cloud and Wind] While taking a walk with my son, I ask him a question. If you could use a little magic for a moment and turn into either wind or cloud, which one would you want to become? My son thinks and thinks. Son / ... Wind요. Why? Son / “Because if I become wind, I can take the clouds around with me요.” Right? If you become wind and travel here and there, taking the clouds with you, you won't be lonely. When you're thirsty, you can eat a little cloud and wet your throat. When you're tired, you can spread a cloud underneath you and lie down. And when you go somewhere cold, you can cover yourself with a cloud and sleep... haha. Dad was thinking wind too, but since you said wind, Dad will become a cloud and follow right behind you everywhere. haha. On Friday, June 18, we left home around 6:15 and came back at almost 8. ──────────── 6/18/2021 [구름과 바람] 아들과 산책 중에 아들에게 질문한다. 만약 잠깐 요술을 부려서 바람...

  dirt clothes outer off under on. dirt clothes brought. put on dirt. ──────────── 8:32 PM 10/13/2025 [Clothes.. Dirt Clothes.. Death] I take off my outer clothes, and when I put on my underwear, that guy comes looking for me. To go to that guy's home, I put on the dirt underwear that guy handed me. Once I put it on, nature is my brothers and sisters. That guy, I find out, is a thankful friend who found the brothers and sisters I had lost. Meeting my brothers and sisters and staying there in the dirt, I realize that while I lived above the dirt, I was a murderer. My life is a sinner. Now, to pay for that sin, I live in the dirt. ──────────── 8:32 PM 10/13/2025 [옷.. 흙옷.. 죽음] 겉옷 벗고 속옷 입으니 그놈 찾아온다. 그놈 집에 가기 위해 그놈이 건넨 흙속옷 입었다. 입어보니 자연이 내 형제자매. 그놈 알고 보니 잃은 형제자매 찾아준 고마운 벗. 형제자매 만나 흙 속에 있어보니 흙 위에 살던 동안 나는 살인자. 내 삶은 죄인 이제 그 죄 갚기 위해 흙속에 산다. AI–Human Collaboration · Collapses — How to Read

  hungry lay down. ground is bedding. ate cloud. not one left. blue kkororok. ──────────── 11:27 AM 3/1/2018 [Hungry] I had no strength, so I lay down. When the strength left my body, the whole ground became bedding. I just lay myself down. I was hungry, so I began eating the clouds shimmering before my eyes. I ate and ate, and before I knew it, my stomach began to fill. Seeing not a single cloud left in the sky, I realized I had eaten too much. When I eat the clouds, the sky grows blue, blue, hungry. When I stuff myself with food from the ground, the sky grows hazy, hazy, full. Ah, these days, the kkororok, kkororok sound hunger makes is the sound of us that keeps me alive and keeps the sky alive. ──────────── 11:27 AM 3/1/2018 [베고파] 기운이 없어 누었다. 몸에 기운이 사라지니 땅바닥이 온통 이부자리다. 그냥 드러 누었다. 배가 고파 눈 위에 아른거리는 구름을 먹기 시작했다. 먹고 먹으니 어느덧 배가 불러온다. 하늘에 구름 한 점 없는 것을 보니 내가 너무 많이 먹었다. 내가 구름을 먹으면 하늘은 푸르게 푸르게 배고파한다. 내가 땅에 음식을 배터지게 먹으면 하늘은 푸옇...

  fog think of son fog. hand opens nothing. eyes two drops. ──────────── June 9, 2021, 11:18 at night [ Fog ? ] A child is fog. When I think of my son, fog begins to rise from somewhere deep inside my body. It fills every corner of me, thick and heavy, until finally even my brain is covered in fog. It swallows stray thoughts, covers the pain of reality, and quietly, without leaving a trace, covers all the problems of reality that I can see. After the deep, thick fog has covered my flesh and spirit, exactly two drops of tears gather in my two eyes. They tremble there, almost ready to fall. And before I know it, the fog that had been so thick quietly begins to withdraw. The fog that first rose from deep inside my body spreads slowly upward. When it reaches my brain, a strange shiver sweeps through it— something almost cold, something like being pricked with a fine sewing needle, a trembling that briefly paralyzes thought. Then it gathers up all the fog inside my body and makes exactl...

1:44 can i play a bit yeah. how long 1 hour 45. 1:44. alarm. ──────────── 7:12 PM 7/3/2021 [1 Hour 44 Minutes] Son / Can I rest for a bit? Yeah. Son / How long can I? The minimum and the maximum are things you make. They are not something Dad makes. How long do you want? Son / 1 hour 45 minutes? Yeah. Do that. Son / Okay. But if you go for 1 hour, 45 minutes, and 1 second before you stop, you lost to time. You didn't play. You lost to time. The reason time is strong is that it is the same for everyone. Son / Yeah. Then I'll set an alarm. So set the alarm for 1 hour 44 minutes, and use the last 1 minute to finish. Then you played the game, and you also won against time. The maximum is when you begin. The minimum is when you are getting close to the end. ──────────── 7:12 PM 7/3/2021 [1시간 44분] 아들/좀 쉬어도 돼? 그래 아들/얼마 큼까지 가능해? 미니멈과 맥스는 네가 만드는 것이지, 아빠가 하는 게 아니다. 얼마나 하고 싶은데 아들/1시간 45분? 그래 그렇게 해. 아들/알았어. 대신에 네가 1시간 45분 1초를 하고 끝내면 너는 시간한테 실패한 거야. 너는 논게 아니라 시간한테 진거야 시간이 스트롱한 이유는 누구에게나 일정하...

umbrella’s day off today umbrella rests. sky opens rain comes. tadak, tak tadak, tak rain strips i wet sswaaa kung, ududuk ──────────── August 24, 2021, 7:19 PM On the umbrella’s day off, rain comes looking for me. Me, inside a grave. The grave is my home and my ground. It is not that death comes looking for me inside life. I am already living inside a grave, and I live that way to bring life back to life. Out of nowhere, why does rain come looking for me on the day the umbrella rests and make me wet? Maybe, when my perceptions are drying out, cracking apart, and beginning to die, it has come to wake my life. [Umbrella’s Day Off] A day off. Today, the umbrella’s day off. The sky opens and rain comes over to play. Nok~ nok~ I cannot say no, so I receive it with my whole body. Maybe it is so happy to see me it could die, because it comes down on me without mercy. Tadak~ tak~ tak~ Sswa~aa Kung~ ududuk~ A day off, rain strips, I get wet. Ai, bukkeu~ Ah~ ah~ bukkeu~ We are like that, primal...

  hitch left footprint right footprint walk the universe. god staggers one print. blue bruise. ──────────── June 27, 2021, 2:24 PM [Footprint] God walking through the universe. The left foot of eternity brushes past, and after the right foot of infinity passes... Ah-cha, losing balance, one single-footprint pressed down hard. A round blue bruise. Inside it, I live. ──────────── 6월 27일 21년 오후 2시 24분에.... [발자국] 우주를 걷는 신. 영원의 왼발이 스치고 무한의 오른발이 지나간 뒤... 아차, 하고 중심 잃어 꾹 눌러 찍은 외발자국 하나. 둥근 푸른 멍 그 속에 나 산다. AI–Human Collaboration · Collapses — How to Read

  my root above ground even the light the root is heavy. above ground even the weed the root is dear. root does not split the ground above. the young the old don't know. i just live. ──────────── 12/12/2025 [My Root] Above the ground, even what is light, its root is heavy. Above the ground, even a weed, its root is precious. The root does not divide what is above the ground. The young don't recognize the old, the old don't care about the young. I don't know. I live, back and forth between the two. ──────────── 12/12/2025 [내 뿌리] 땅 위 가벼운 것도  뿌리는 무겁다. 땅 위  잡풀도 뿌리는 귀하다. 뿌리는 땅 위를 가르지 않는다. 젊은것 늙은 것 몰라보고 늙은 것 젊은것 무관심해. 몰라, 갈팡질팡 산다. AI–Human Collaboration · Collapses — How to Read

Mom. Universe Bojagi When I was small   Mom tied me to her back.    Wrapped in a podaegi. stuck to her back,   I was a cicada on a tree.   Maem-maem — fuss fuss   Maem-maem — giggle   Maem-maem — kul..kul In the kitchen where she cooked and set the table   she kept me hanging on her back.    In the backyard patch where she watered and fed the dirt she carried me.   Even when her body hurt and she could not eat right   she could not take me down from the podaegi. Only I   was hungry, hurting, fussing.   That Mom too   could hurt   could be tired   could be hungry—   I never once suspected. Mom,   the last call, about three months before you left.   First time:   "Son, is it hard?" "No." Almost a will.   " Son, the universe will help you. " Your living voice, the last I heard. On a quiet night,...

  Gapsae (間差) "The Little Shit Poking at the Universe" My mom is baryon asymmetry, 10⁻⁹. Like every first mother, she's got backbone — serious backbone. The kind that carries a silver blade tucked in her sash, just in case her word ever needed defending. Way back, between matter and antimatter, her heart tipped — once. Just once. And for 13.7 billion years since, she never changed her mind. One silver blade, kept like a vow, and she turned to stone — faithful, unmoving, guarding that single tilt forever. Funny and sad at the same time — that one tremble, that one lifelong stillness, is the reason stars got made, the reason you and I exist, the reason every damn thing that ever would exist, later did. My dad, though, he's fp64 machine epsilon, 10⁻¹⁶. No blade for him — just a wandering eye, tucked in his back pocket instead. Even mid-calculation he's shifting his weight, and the second some new number shows up, he's already circling the last decimal, checking ...

  Living by Ganboda  Between life and death,   a what that is not yet either flavor.   I dip a pinky in and taste for the seasoning. Almost two years, three times a week,   I walk the same dirt path barefoot.   About two miles.   Bare feet are a tongue.    The day after rain is soft and wet.   Dry days are harsh and rough.   Some days a small stone   chews itself against me.   Same path—   and not once has it given me the same flavor. When I walked in shoes, I did not know— in my place, the shoes had been eating first. In childhood,   a countryside with no refrigerator.   In the backyard the crocks huddled together.   Ganjang, doenjang, gochujang.   Eating sun, hearing rain, waiting on wind, the gan soaked in. Mother opened a lid   and dipped her little finger.   “Not yet?”   “Still good?” ...

 "I am foolish enough. Therefore, small, unfettered questions are enough." When nameless things, scattered all across the universe, happen to gather here and there and share a conversation of silence, something foolish scratches the silence each holds as its own. Disorder, hiding in the tiny wound, is lured out— and somehow, almost by accident, time is born. Time roams wildly through space, stirring, rummaging, wandering every which way. And all the digging it does, without even knowing what it’s doing, becomes the ever-blooming flowers of the universe. Different things, drawn to the flowers of the universe, tangle and twist in the struggle of their entanglement. And in the crumbs that fall from their writhing, different times hide and live. Inside the time curled up on Earth, " I live as a tenant for a little while " These days, when I walk a mountain trail and sit upon a rock, I can feel the hardened heart of stone waiting for time. And through the flickering crac...

  Tiny Letters Living on a Point Euclid: “A point is that which has no part.” On that one point, tiny letters live. The place was strange. No door to go in. No road to walk. No room to stand. A person could not go in. Information, wants, rank, name— too much to carry. Only one thing could go in. One eye. So to see the tiny letters on that point, a person had to set down, for a while, everything stuck to them. Set down the name. Set down rich and poor. Set down better and worse. Set down right and wrong. When only one eye was left, only then could it enter the point. And there, a tiny letter really lived. So small that trying hard to read it made it disappear. You had to stay still and just look. Then the letter spoke, soft, like a whisper. “ It’s okay. You are you. I’m glad you are here, alive  ” A point has no parts. So no one could split it. No one could take more of it. The letter has no length. So it spoke to everyone the same way. Where there is no room, no one can stay l...