Cutting iron plate > Bonds Gallery

I'm in a hurry.
Because a transfer train has just arrived.
I jump down the curved stairs to the right, rising to the left.
It's a little dangerous, but I'm okay.
I get down on the ground and wait for the train doors to open.
But the door I'm supposed to board won't open.
I try to open it with my hand, but it won't open.

The people next to me are boarding elsewhere.
Now it's just me.
I grab onto the ground and try to open it.

I quickly move to the next door.

The engineer must be watching me, unable to board, trying to open the door through the security camera.
I have a feeling he won't just close the door and pass me by.
So I hold on to the door and try to open it.

When the small door next to me opens, I quickly go through it.
I enter the train car from the entrance.
The left passenger door won't open easily.

I try again. The door opened and I stepped inside...
This was a special carriage... one for women, or perhaps for the sick.
There were people moving in bed.
This was for the elderly and the elderly.
It was painted white and pink.

I felt like I'd entered the wrong carriage, and I panicked a little.
I wondered how I should proceed.
But no one in this carriage said anything to me.

They were lost in thought.
Or perhaps they knew I was flustered.
They just continued their journey on the train.

As I was thinking, I remembered the time I'd lost contact with my friend on the train.

Oh, okay. Let's call her on her phone.
I checked my phone message and tried to send it.

But our destination was approaching. I didn't think I needed to.
Finally, I got off at the station.

This is the station after Wangsimni Station. Wangsimni Station is a big station.

As I exit the train, I look around.
- Ah... this place...

I've definitely been here before.
This station is bustling.

A small factory and people, located on a slightly hilly area.

I meet up with a friend,
and follow him up to the second floor of a factory.

The second floor is shabby.

Motors the size of a human torso lie on the floor.

A man wearing overalls, gray overalls stained with oil,
looks at us.

Ah... that man is my friend's uncle.

- Ah, motors, I say.

I'm even more interested because this is a place that makes electrical components, which is my interest.
There are about five rows of shelves, each with a part.
There are also shelves to the left.

...Below the floor to the left is another store.

The floor is made of sheet metal. He draws a white straight line on the floor, spaced about the size of a palm.
Then, following that white line, he cuts the sheet metal with a powerful blowtorch.

I assist him with this cutting.

We are cutting the sheet metal.

. A moment later...

A powerful flame shoots out through a gap in the sheet metal to the left.

We are off to the right.

It's not dangerous for us.

This bulgil is working in the factory on the first floor below.

We take a short break.

That flame seems to be normal.

My friend's uncle, the owner of this place, is unfazed.

The flame is probably as strong as the flames of a smelting furnace.

I am observing a wooden pole.
It's a long pole, made by layering several small wooden planks.

About ten thin planks were layered lengthwise to form a long pole. 30% of it still looks wet, dark, like glue or rosin.

My uncle gives me a small, folded piece of paper. He then gives it to another friend.
It's folded four times, about the size of a postage stamp.
But it's a bit thick. It's crinkled.

I haven't opened it yet, but
it feels like money.
It's a token of appreciation for helping us with our work.
And he says to his nephew,
"I'll always do my job properly..."

We've come here together to my friend's uncle's factory
for some reason.

....

In the evening, I pass by the hardware store street and head home.

On the right, there used to be an empty store,
but now another hardware store stands there.

There's an oil stove burning inside, and next to it is a desk.
The owner is warming himself by the stove.

I stop for a moment to look around the store. The new store here, like last time, sells and processes tools.
Screwdrivers are rolling around on the floor.
And the dog they're raising is on the floor.

I spend a moment petting the dog with my hand.
The dog is very friendly.

Then I head back down the road.
I'm heading to the train station.
I'm holding a pair of slippers tied with a white string.

I'm only taking this with me.

My important belongings have already been shipped by freight.