In short: All the content in this section is only related to the MUSIC WORKS of 李承允/Lee Seung-yoon/이승윤/bgsmsyl.

“This album is fully loaded with my small and humble self, loaded with my big and clumsy nose.”

The musician said such a sentence when in last year concert. Let’s talk about this sentence.

I read the collection “Rashomon” when my language was extremely confused. At that time, I couldn’t distinguish whether Chinese characters/Kanji should be read in Chinese or Japanese, so I directly found a version with only kana to read. After reading the story Hana, I felt very confused: how could flowers appear on someone’s face? I was too young to understand the whole plot, the story remained in my mind as a beautiful fantasy novel.
Half a year later, I read the Chinese edition of Akutagawa and realized that the pronunciation “Hana/はな” here represented Nose(鼻), not Flower(花). But still, this homonym gave me an impression of flowers every time I think about or write about “The Nose.”

In 2023, the Japanese philosophy paper topic was Ryunosuke Akutagawa, and the mainstream discussion in the seminar was that Naigu’s nose symbolized ugliness. But what the hell did I write?

So perhaps Naigu’s pain is also about whether people are willing to preserve their ugly self when the only feature that establishes our identity is seen as a defect by others, or regarded as ugly and ridiculous. This is similar to what Nietzsche asked in eternal recurrence: whether people are willing to repeat their suffering countless times without any change. Then from another perspective, if Naigu were more honest about his ugliness, could the tragedy be reversed into courage or beauty?

When I was painfully confused about language that even wanted to escape from all the text, this Hana misreading happened to appear. My childish ignorance allowed me to see the illusion of flowers. Then somehow I was saved. Then the beauty of flowers without existence covered my eyes like translucent gauze. Then I grew up. Then the ignorance faded. Then I naturally thought such flowers would not descend a second time.
Then.

When you started the topic with that story I was dazed for a moment.
Then the book from my childhood suddenly opened in front of me. BOOM, here come across the blossom, again.
Could such tragedy be reversed into courage and beauty? The professor didn’t answer it. Long gone Akutagawa cannot answer it. But I did see something beautiful.

The writer who started my writing career said that if you think windmills are demons, then describe them as demons (ironically, this writer himself was known for his fanatical worship of Akutagawa).
But obviously, what’s actually written is just a copy of the demon windmill. So this column is named after Hrön, Borges’ most famous duplicates. All translations and notes and other words here are attempts to reproduce the flower I saw.

Precisely because even the original of the copy is the flower I saw, I’m not boasting that I will restore the real flower or nose like supernaturalism.

I just want to say that perhaps from certain perspective, there once was a flower somewhere.

Perhaps from this certain angle, flowers are also beautiful.