This Month’s Theme is
Feet
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Feet •
The Toenails
by Namoo Chae Lee
I often get startled by my own toe. My toenail curls inward as it grows. It reminds me of someone I never wanted to resemble. It’s been more than seven years since I last spoke to him, yet this toenail still binds me to him in a way I can’t escape. I cut it down as tightly as I can, until it bleeds, then hurriedly pull on my socks.
Today, I stood in front of a steel door. I didn’t know that Emergency Intensive Care Units had steel doors. It felt like waiting outside a bank vault, the kind that holds something immensely valuable. The door was guarded by security personnel, and we were only allowed inside for fifteen minutes, twice a week. All of a sudden, my father—the man who had always been such an overpowering force in my life—felt fragile, almost precious, behind that vault door.
My feet felt heavy as I walked from Gatwick Airport to Incheon Airport, then to Seoul Station, and finally to Busan. I cancelled everything in London just to see him, after seven years of convincing myself not to. It was in a tech rehearsal, under the stage lights, when I received the message about his condition: “He underwent brain surgery and went unconscious...” I was in the middle of the project that I’d dreamt of for so long, and at this critical moment, he was banging on my door, demanding to be seen. I resented the way he always had to be the protagonist of every story. Couldn’t he, just once, let me be the heroine of my own life? Why did he always have to take centre stage, turning everyone else into supporting characters? I just wanted to live my own life—that’s it. Now, I am so tired. Too tired to be angry.
The door opened, and I was warned not to be surprised by his appearance. His head was shaved, and his skull and throat were connected to tubes that twisted around him. His feet were not the same colour; one side was already paralysed. The nurse proudly told me that he hadn’t developed any pressure ulcers yet. I didn’t know how to respond to that.
I returned home and fell into a long nap, feeling the rough edge of my toenail pressing against my sock. Nothing could explain what I feel—except this toenail.
"Bestow upon me the freedom to wander, for my feet long to roam."
by Suyoung Park
Wide Feet
by Minhee Yeo
“You’ll never get athlete’s foot in your life,” he said, eyeing her feet, which had wide gaps between her toes.
Whenever she went shoe shopping, the pretty ones she liked never seemed to fit her wide feet. She always ended up picking shoes with a bulky, broad shape. It used to frustrate her, even become a complex. So, when he said that, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so she simply blinked.
As a child, her friends would tease her, saying her feet looked like frog’s toes.
When her teenage daughter complained about not being able to wear pretty shoes because of her own wide feet, her mother comforted her, saying, “You really take after your dad, even in your toes. Your feet don’t sweat, and they don’t smell either. Isn’t that a blessing?”
And, as it turned out, the mother was right. As she grew, she became a true wanderer on foot. Always busy, constantly on the move, and full of curiosity, she travelled the world, often on foot. Yet, despite all the walking, she never struggled with sweaty feet or foot odour. When she lived in India for two months, she bought a pair of sandals from a local bazaar. The Indian seller, noticing her bare feet, smiled and said, “Your feet are just like an Indian’s!” and graciously offered her a discount. This was because, in India, the tradition of walking barefoot had persisted for generations, helping to preserve the natural shape of their feet. The shoes they wore were less constricting, allowing their toes to spread freely, which contributed to this.
Her feet, which could spread out like a fan at will, could even pick up tissues that had fallen on the floor with just her toes. Free and unburdened, her feet no longer caused her embarrassment.
By the time she entered her thirties, long after the days when she’d wanted to show off her legs in sleek-toed 10cm heels with bright red soles, she had traded them in for comfortable trainers. These days, whenever she has a moment, she takes off her socks and stands barefoot on her yoga mat, letting her toes spread wide. She finds that her wide feet give her a sense of stability, grounding her more deeply into the earth. And, for the first time, she feels truly grateful for the fact that she resembled her dad's feet.