14 boxes, made together.

Fourteen exclusive pieces made just once,

crafted by three artists

for our first RSM holiday calendar.

전수빈
Soobin Jeon

as a child, my mother gave me a soap with a toy inside, telling me
I had to use it to reveal the treasure.

비가 오던 일요일 아침이었지만,

찬바람이 창문을 잔뜩 흔들어대던 어젯밤에 비하면 따뜻하게 느껴졌다.

아침 해도 여유를 부리듯 쨍하지 않은 덕에

침대 맡, 뜻없이 웃고 있는 얼굴을 한 램프 불빛이 포근했다.

나도 모르게 피어난 미소와 함께, 온기가 있는 거실로 걸어 나왔다.

매해 이맘때 쯤이면 트는 음악들을 들으며 문득 '이 일요일이 네다섯 번쯤이면 새해겠구나' 생각이 스쳤다.

숨은 제대로 쉬고 지나간 걸까.

지난 열두 달에 가까운 순간들을 난 무엇들로 채운걸까.

실마리를 찾듯 거실 서랍장 한 켠에 놓인 작은 물건들에 시선이 닿았다.

짧게나마 잠시 떠났던 휴가지, 드디어 다녀왔던 미술관,

퇴근길 지나다가 우연히 발견한 작은 가게 같은 곳들에서

하나둘씩 모여든 작은 것들이 놓인 한 코너를 보며,

그들이 나도 잊고 살았던 지난 날들을 조용히 간직해주고 있구나 싶었다.

대상없이 그저 고마운 마음이 들었다.

마음만큼 자주 연락이 닿지 못했던 가족, 친구들

그리고 몇몇의 사람들에게 안부를 묻고 싶어진다.

It was a rainy Sunday morning,
but compared to last night when the cold wind shook the windows,
it felt almost warm.

The sun wasn’t shining sharply either,
as if it, too, wanted to take its time.
The lamp by my bed, with its quiet little smile, felt comforting.
Without even noticing, a small smile formed on my face,
and I walked out to the living room where the air felt warm.

Around this time every year, I put on the same songs,
and suddenly it hit me—
in four or five more Sundays, it’ll be a new year.
Did I breathe properly as the months passed?
What did I fill those almost twelve months with?

Looking for some kind of thread to pull,
my eyes landed on a few small objects
sitting in the corner of the living room drawer.

A tiny collection gathered from places I slipped away to—
a short holiday, the museum I finally visited,
the little shop I discovered by accident on my way home.
Seeing them lined up in one corner,
I realized they had been quietly holding the days I’d forgotten.

I felt grateful, for no particular reason and to no one in particular.

And then, suddenly, I wanted to reach out—
to family and friends I haven’t spoken to as often as I meant to,
and to a few others whose names drifted into my mind.