Broadly speaking, the city seems like a tense power struggle between two forces: nature and buildings, the people and objects that fill the space, day and night, the past and the present, and the left and the right. Although I love observing downtown buildings more than anyone, whenever it felt like our suffocating reality, I would often escape to a park . In Tokyo, where I lived until last year, there were plenty of parks in every neighborhood where I could find rest. As I sat under the shade of trees, listening to the sounds of insects and birds while gazing at the sunlight pouring through the leaves, I would get lost in the fantasy that I had become the protagonist in Makoto Shinkai 's animation, * The Garden of Words *. As I let my gaze be captivated by the greenery, my noisy mind would soon calm down, and peace would settle in.

Seeking out Gyeongsang Gamyeong Park first thing upon arriving in downtown Daegu was, in other words, an instinctive choice. I believe that the power of a city still lies in its parks. I am not talking about parks built by famous figures or those that compete solely on scale or facilities, but ordinary, average parks. I believe that whether a city is a livable space is determined by how its parks function for its citizens. In my favorite book, *What a City Lives On*, author Professor Yoo Hyun-joon stated that the concept of introducing nature into the city center emerged after industrialization, marking the very beginning of urban parks. In other words, this serves as proof that a yearning to rest in nature always resides in the hearts of modern people living busy lives amidst a forest of buildings.

Gyeongsang Gamyeong Park

This is the site where the Gyeongsang Gamyeong was located during the 34th year of King Seonjo of Joseon (1601). It is an urban garden that opened in the center of Daegu in 1970. The colorful flowers that adorn the park every season captivate visitors.

99 Gyeongsanggamyeong-gil, Jung-gu, Daegu

Gyeongsang Gamyeong Park is the site where the Gyeongsangbuk-do Provincial Office stood from 1910 during the Japanese colonial period until 1965 after liberation. It is said to have become the center of Daegu after being developed into a park in 1970. This is why it was initially called Jungang Park (Central Park). It was later renamed to its current name in 1997. As soon as you enter, you get a strange feeling, as if time has stopped. While buildings under construction are densely packed behind it, this place feels somehow detached from reality. It feels as if the rhythm of daily life—the inhalation and exhalation—naturally flows a tempo slower.

As I toured cultural heritage sites such as Seonhwadang, the office of the Gyeongsang-do Governor, and Jingcheonggak, which served as his residence, the spectacle of light and shadow created by the shade of large trees transformed the appearance of the grass in real time. In fact, the most interesting aspect was the layout of the path. Although it is a small park, the paths meandered in a fascinating way to prevent the space from becoming monotonous. The fact that it is not a single direction means that diverse scenes are created with every step taken. Thanks to this, I was able to enjoy the park from various angles, and my camera captured different landscapes. Middle-aged women chatting, an elderly man taking photos, young people talking on the phone, and children running around... On this leisurely afternoon, residents crossed paths right in front of me. Furthermore, its charm lies in the fact that it is not excessively large, allowing one to naturally transition into the surrounding roads, residential areas, and commercial spaces at any time. I looked around the fountain, stone walls, gravel-paved walking paths, and the Bell of Unification in turn. Now, I decided to move on to Daegu's past.

I take a brief look around the Bukseong-ro area of Hyangchon-dong, the old street of artists. As the region where entertainment establishments flourished most in Daegu, many cultural and artistic figures gathered here immediately after the Korean War in 1950. It is a place where many artists, including the poet Ku Sang and the painter Lee Jung-seop, actively interacted with local writers to cultivate a cultural street representative of Korea. Not long ago, the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art's The silver foil paintings by artist Lee Jung-seop, which were confirmed in the previous post, were drawn on the silver foil used to package cigarettes , and were created at the 'Baekrok Cafe' on this very street .

The inscription on the sign at the site, “Back then, no one knew its value,” resonated deeply with me. ‘Baekjo Dabang,’ which was said to have attracted a constant stream of musicians due to its unconventional grand piano at the time; ‘Kkotjari Dabang,’ where the publication party for Ku Sang’s poetry collection *Poems of the Scorched Earth*—published during the Korean War—was held; and ‘Renaissance,’ a music listening room once described in foreign press as a place where “Bach’s music was heard amidst the ruins”—all now remain only as traces of the site; they have all been transformed into cafes for young people, shabby restaurants, and motels. Nothing in this world is eternal, yet is there truly nothing left? While searching through records, I discovered ‘Nokhyang,’ which is said to still be keeping its legacy alive. Hearing that it is currently located in the basement of the Hyangchon Cultural Center, I set off for there.

To be honest , I didn't have high expectations as I headed toward the Hyangchon Cultural Center . However, having read in the anonymous people I met on the streets of Daegu a gaze and attitude filled with a certain pride rarely seen in Seoul, I became inexplicably curious about the locals. I also held a vague belief that the foundation of Daegu people's present and their sharp confidence lay in their past. “Is this your first time in Daegu? People in Daegu may look stiff on the outside, but they aren't like that on the inside. They are incredibly warm-hearted.” I ruminated on the taxi driver’s words. Indeed, isn't this the very place where the National Debt Redemption Movement (1907) first began, and where the massive Manse (Hurray) demonstrations (1919) took place prior to the proclamation of the Provisional Government of the Republic of Korea?

As I stepped into the Hyangchon Cultural Center, where the landscape of modern Daegu was recreated in life-size before my eyes, I suddenly found myself standing in the middle of Jungang-ro, Daegu's premier commercial district during the 1950s and 1960s. Passing by inns, tailor shops, jewelry stores, taverns, and the tool alley of Bukseong-ro, I entered Gyodong Market. It was here that I first learned that Ttaro-gukbap originated in Daegu. This soup, a popular dish during the Korean War refugee era, was loved by everyone for its refreshing broth, made by simmering radishes and blood sausage for a long time. People endured those difficult and sorrowful times by pairing it with a bowl of makgeolli. It is said that Napjak Mandu, one of Daegu's ten famous delicacies , was also first created during this period. Since everyone was impoverished and meat was unthinkable, minced vegetables were used to fill the dumplings; this marked the beginning of the thin yet chewy Napjak Mandu, which established itself as a delicacy that filled the hungry stomachs of the common people of that time.

Next is a teahouse in Hyangchon-dong. Sitting for a moment in a corner of the teahouse, where Korea's representative literary figures likely once sat, I reflect on them. This is the place where Ku Sang, Kim Dong-ri, Park Mok-wol, and Lee Hyo-sang recited poetry; where masterpieces by composers like Byun Hoon and Kim Dong-jin were born; and where Lee Jung-seop's masterpieces were painted. As I looked at their photographs one by one, the expressions of those who brought brilliant modern Korean culture and arts to bloom even amidst the ruins of war were so infinitely bright that my eyes suddenly welled up with tears. In particular, writers from Daegu experimented with various forms of modern literature without yielding to the continuous censorship and oppression of the Japanese during the colonial period; the gem-like works I learned about in school—such as Hyun Jin-geon's short stories *Hometown* and *A Lucky Day*, and Lee Sang-hwa's poem *Does Spring Come Even to the Fields That Have Been Taken Away?*—were born right here in Daegu. I also learned for the first time that Daegu and Gyeongbuk were the regions where Hyangga from the Silla Dynasty and Sijo and Gasa from the Joseon Dynasty were actively created.

Rural Culture Center

It is a cultural space opened by renovating the former Daegu branch of the Commercial Bank of Korea, and it recreates the appearance of Hyangchon-dong, the spiritual home of cultural and artistic figures in the 1950s.

449 Jungang-daero, Jung-gu, Daegu

WEBSITE

Finally, I stopped by 'Nokhyang,' located in the basement . Opened in 1946 by Mr. Lee Chang-soo with just a single phonograph speaker and about 500 LP records, this was Korea's first classical music listening room and a gathering place for writers and musicians who had fled Seoul before and after the Korean War. Although it was currently so quiet and solemn that it was difficult to gauge the atmosphere of the past, it was fortunate that the owner's son is keeping the legacy alive as part of an urban regeneration project. Nowadays, poetry recitations, music healing, and prenatal programs are held here.

Now, shall I leave the building and wander wherever my feet take me, as if drifting through the city? As I stroll past the charming independent bookstore 'Ghost Books' and 'Holiday Visitor Shop,' where Japanese city pop music used to play, I turn my head and a building constructed in the 1910s suddenly appears, as if I have time-slipped. Feeling a bit dizzy, I stop by 'Everglow,' a café recommended by a staff member . It is a place that reinterprets a forgotten old house in Gyo-dong with a modern sensibility through remodeling. As I ascend to the dimly lit space on the second floor, the ceiling of the historic house, which has preserved its past appearance exactly as it was, is revealed. Listening to the Coldplay music echoing through the space, I thought to myself: Ah, in Daegu, you have to look up at the ceiling as well. With Japanese-style houses and renovated historic spaces still abundant, I feel as though I am traveling back and forth between the past and the present.

Surprisingly, coming to Daegu, I see Korea. And I see the future. That is the true charm of this attractive city, Daegu.

Lee Min-kyung

She worked as a fashion editor for the magazines *Style H* and *Instyle * , and in content marketing at Hyundai Card. Drawing on the sensibilities she accumulated over her long career as a magazine editor, she wrote the book *Tokyo Curation*, which views the city of Tokyo as a brand and explores it through a multi-layered perspective. This substantial book of approximately 500 pages contains in-depth landscapes observed while she spent six years in Tokyo. Just as the book's opening sentence states, "There are landscapes that can only be seen once you enter," the author unfolds the moments she actually encountered and experienced through extensive research via her own unique lens, exploring attitudes toward life through inspirations both big and small found in everyday life.