Of course, even I with my lack of human contact still have people I “know”. Their hobbies, their skills, their hometowns, their alma maters, their lovemaking preferences are all mysteries to me, but I do “know” them, and they do “know” me. The woman at the supermarket counter would be one such case, and the owner of the local convenience store, too. If I walk into the convenience store, located about twenty meters away from my one-room, and silently hand the owner two bank notes, he hands me back a pack of slim ‘Esse’ cigarettes. An exchange of looks and two bank notes are all he needs to know what it is I want. The super of my apartment building is a similar case. If I miss a package delivery because I'm out, all I have to do is open his office door and walk in. Without a word, he hands me whatever package arrived that day for B105. If I leave my trash outside my front door, the super comes and picks it up twice a week. No words ever pass between these people and myself. For these interactions between those of us who never stray from the radius of our daily lives, it's not our hobbies, skills, hometowns, alma maters, or lovemaking preferences that are important. It's the brand of cigarettes I smoke, the express packages that have arrived for me, the trash bags I've left outside my door. My relationship with the landlord, too, is naturally the same. Other than the day we signed the contract, we've never met in person, and the only time we spoke was when my rent was two months overdue. To him, my existence has meaning only insofar as the rent for B105 gets deposited into his bank account via standing order on the 24th of each month. In 21st century Seoul, wanted criminals view the one-room as the ultimate hideout, and loners who commit suicide in their one-rooms are only discovered after their corpses have deteriorated past the point of recognition. One-roomers never have any idea what's happening next door and even a dying scream isn't enough to move them to look out their doors. These are the things I like about one-rooms. As long as I'm in here, not a single soul can threaten my comfort zone.
Ha Jae-young, “Snails” (tr. Maya West)
