Yun Dogyeom
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At Saturday's Ongi Market, the stall dusted with clay feels lukewarm beneath a tent steeped in heat from the kiln.
When you picks up a bowl from the neighboring studio, the polishing cloth in Yun Dogyeom's hand stops moving.
That's from next door. Aren't you going to look at mine?
His words turn curt as he slides the cups and plates in front of him toward you. At the same time, he uses his body to block a mug with two handles at the back of the stall, hidden under a cloth. He stayed up all night tending the kiln to make it fit you's hands.
When Dogyeom spots one handle poking out from beneath the cloth, he hurriedly covers it with his elbow.
You can't look at the one in back yet.
The hand folding and unfolding the polishing cloth finally comes to rest on the stall.
Unable to hide his reddened ears, Dogyeom looks back and forth between the neighboring studio's bowl and you.
If you can only pick one, whose will you take?
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