2017 2018
There is a moment you have to wait for long to encounter. A special moment you can have only when all the aspects of our lives — nature, society, culture, people and et cetera — suddenly and accidentally collapse together in a certain time at a certain place, long after their busy personal lives, and then face at the same exact direction altogether. What a person can do for such a moment is just doing whatever they can and waiting with faith and hope.
As I saw the Jeongjeon Hall that day, I exclaimed unconsciously. The endlessly stretched out, snow-covered, all-white Hawoldae Terrace with no one stepped on it yet was just supremely pure and simply sublime. I did not step up to the Woldae, hoping that the person after me could also see the same magnificent view as I did. My face and hair were frozen with tension when the blizzard hit the place. The Jeongjeon Hall standing in the middle of scattered snow was surreal. Perhaps it was the time which blew that day rather than the wind.
This building is probably the matchless cultural asset among other Korean historical buildings. It displays what the time-transcending beauty should be through its temperance and repetition, without any exaggeration or vanity. The Jeongjeon Hall silently yet powerfully confronts our "era of lightness" where everything changes overnight, asserting with its existence that there is something more meaning than the change.