He spent more than half his youth, just
pursuing, building walls, living
a life of luxury, every moment a cinematic
fantasy, building up what he
considered to be
independent, keeping his capelet
billowing in the strongest
steadiest of winds
over the vast oceans
and the bitterest icebergs, because
people called him unsinkable, and
he was a god, and he was made from the finest
carbon metal, pearls from the heart of the ocean,
little children dancing the waltz
with their fathers like little ladies with
missing front teeth, coated with the blackest
paint and the goldest of plates,
and the people called him as magnificent
as the ship of dreams—
—until he met her.
I once read that the hole in the Titanic
was no bigger than a human figure.
About the Author
Yoon Park is a dynamic high school student enrolled at Seoul Academy in Seoul, South Korea. She channels her creative energy into writing and visual art and finds joy in expressing herself through these mediums. Additionally, she has a passion for music and spends her spare time playing the piano. Her dedication to her craft has earned her recognition and admission into the prestigious Sewanee Young Writers Conference.
