ㅇ is a sound of water. It lives where fluids flow and floats through effortlessly. Korean consonant ㅇ is mute at the beginning of the words. It has marginal, empty space to breathe. It embraces absence and presence within. It is a passage of an umbilical cord. It is a lifeline. The depth of ㅇ is infinite filled with countless days and nights. Through into ㅇ, there are full of resonant light-forms and spacetime-colors.

Last year, I visited my homeland, South Korea, and had motorcycle trips crossing all over the motherland and islands. Passing through all the waves from mountains, oceans, rocks, and wind, I fully soaked up summer misty green and coated myself with winter shimmering blue. All my planes were open and intermingled. All ㅇ on the body are alive to alter with them.

Landscapes can awaken people who they are. They remind us that there are mental spaces inside our skulls as enormous as the spaces out there. The experience of distance, of inner distance and outer distance, of distance in time and distance in space is the first fundamental transcendence experience.