Lotus

I finally came back home. And old and sick. I see the end of my life. Looking back on my 99 years of life, it was neither short nor long, but clearly happy nor unhappy. In that respect, I consoled myself that I was generally satisfied. Because the days I lived were truly turbulent, a combination of peace and war, destruction and hope, end and reconstruction, slaughter, and forgiveness. As my godmother advised me, I had the good men as my friends, and with them, I poured all my heart into protecting this land, stained with destruction and suffering. And I’m lucky I’m still alive. However, the fact that all my lovers and friends, who were more precious than my body, left me, made me suffer and lonely. It was the sorrow of the survivors.

That I’m alive. And I am grateful now that the memory is still clear, that I have enough energy to eat and move slowly, and to write. Because I know my last duty. Before I die, I want to leave the stories of the righteous, who have passed my time, to posterity. In a way, this may be a kind of lesson to those who will live in the future or a letter of reflection on what those who have gone ahead have done. But most importantly, it is a record of noble souls who burned everything to endure and overcome the age of end and destruction.

I’m going to start that soul with Natalia, my love, my wife, my first and last lover. More than anyone else, she was a great historian, writer, and warrior. The Diary of Natalia, which records the words of my father-in-law, the prophet, and Natalia’s Letter, which vividly records the before and after the war, must be the same as the bottom of the story I will remember and tell in the future. In fact, I am the best beneficiary of understanding and accepting the world by reading my wife’s records. From the moment she learned to write, she kept writing, given only a pencil and paper.

After her father woke up, she left every recited word in her diary, and when it turned out to be a prophecy, she devoted her whole life to the exact interpretation, verification, and practice of the prophecy. I looked with admiration at her diary, which was detailed and meticulously recorded, and at the same time fostered love. All her records were kept in the Library of the Garnier Monastery, famous for its home to all the knowledge of the world, towering over a thousand years in the land of God, where the morning of the world begins first. What I’ve been longing for has come true.

I cannot deny that my story, therefore, will be to the extent that I lay my experience slightly on the summary of my wife’s writings. However, it is possible to guess that the volume of the book is enormous because her writings are so vast. In a way, I may need more time to summarize the existing content rather than write. But I know very well that my time is running out. I won’t stop writing until I die, but I don’t know if it will be today or tomorrow. Therefore, I would like to hurry to record the day’s most important meeting of my life and leave it as a book. After the completion of my first work, if I still have the energy, I will be able to continue the next story with thanks to God and a light heart.