“Roots are for trees, not people.”
“She sang lead, and I belted out the background voice that just repeated, You re everything everything everything, and I felt like I was. You re both the fire and the water that extinguishes it. You re the narrator, the protagonist, and the sidekick. You re the storyteller and the story told. You are somebody s something, but you are also you.”
“How do you know that you re a person, distinct from other people? By keeping certain things to yourself. You guard them inside you, because, if you don t, there s no distinction between inside and outside. Secrets are the way you know you even have an inside. A radical exhibitionist is a person who has forfeited his identity. But identity in a vacuum is also meaningless. Sooner or later, the inside of you needs a witness. Otherwise you re just a cow, a cat, a stone, a thing in the world, trapped in your thingness. To have an identity, you have to believe that other identities equally exist. You need closeness with other people. And how is closeness built? By sharing secrets.”
“No soy coreano, ni japonés, soy un nómada desarraigado, he muttered. Huh? It s Spanish. I always wanted to be a Spaniard. I didn t reply. But it didn t work out. Turns out, it wasn t just about speaking the language. Language has everything to do with your identity-- In theory maybe, he said, cutting me off. But we live in circumstances that can t always be explained away by logic. You ll understand someday.”
“Who cares? If you people want to call me Zainichi, go ahead! You Japanese are scared of me. Can t feel safe unless you categorize and label it, right? But you re wrong. You know what-- I m a lion. A lion has no idea he s a lion. It s just a random name that you people gave him so you can feel like you know all about him. See what happens when you try to get closer, calling my name. I ll pounce on your carotid artery and tear you to shreds. You understand? As long as you call me Zainichi, you re always going to be my victim. I m not Zainichi or South Korean or North Korean or Mongoloid. Quit forcing me into those narrow categories. I m me! Wait, I don t even want to be me anymore. I want to be free from having to be me. I ll go anywhere to find whatever thing will let me forget who I am. And if that thing isn t here. I ll get out of this country, which is what you wanted anyway. You can t do that, can you? No, you ll all die, tied down by your ideas about country, land, titles, customs, traditions, and culture. Well, that s too bad. I never had any of that stuff, so I m free to go anywhere! Jealous? Say you re jealous! Damn it, what am I saying? Damn it, damn it....”