On the horse's path where horses have been erased, I try to remember the time of horses. Horses that not everyone could ride, herbivores that had to be at the center of power and violence, the irony of becoming both resistance and the system, at the boundary of movement and labor. The long time spent by people below, not above, the horse, I try to sense through the horse's ears and mouth. A blurry but wide field of vision, distant and near passing murmurs.

In 2010, I happened to discover and film a horse carriage in the middle of Seoul at Cheonggyecheon. Finding such a being in a place where you wouldn't expect to meet a horse was fascinating, and I, ignorant about horses, could only marvel. Unintentionally encountering horse statues and horses in various places, I pondered on horses mixing new sensations with ancient history. Following the footprints of the beings, blocked between the broken and the newly connected roads, those who have become paths themselves, it feels like I might even meet an imaginary animal like, Quilin.

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