A young boy with a bright future, turned vegetable by unfortunate circumstance, sits forever bound to his chair. His mother absently rubs his shoulder and caresses his face. His face stares back slack jawed and mostly vacant. He kisses his mother’s hand. Something in his eyes shows that he is aware of his change. Something shows he is fighting just to let his mother know, again and again, that he loves her.
He relives his change every moment as he tracks invisible things with his eyes. There is so much hurt in those eyes, so much fear. Like Ji-won Park he’s forever lost something of himself. He looks his mother in the eyes and caresses her face in return. He struggles to say ‘I’m sorry, mum, I’m so sorry… but I love you,’ but he can only loll his tongue and smack his lips. The use of language stolen from him. The ability to say even so simple a phrase cocooned within a cotton mind.