A small house with a persimmon tree.

Mr. Moon's time flows on, industriously.

He sweeps with a broom, drinks his coffee, fixes the table,

heaps a bowl full of rice, and peels a melon.

It is Mr. Moon, carefully setting a table for his daughter.

But Mr. Moon's time does not flow smoothly.

People, memories, and events burst suddenly into view, turning into nightmares that rummage through every corner of the house —

then, just as suddenly, vanish,

leaving only a quiet silence behind.

Crossing back and forth between the time of reality and the time of memory, he arrives, at last, at Gwangju, 1980.

The time that unfolds for Mr. Moon inside this house never becomes mere drama.

The bathroom, the kitchen, the living room become the set; a ladle, a melon become the props;

and everything becomes poetry.