At all the beaches in the world, the site of endless permeation and saturation of sentimentality, we waste our entire lives trying to meet someone who gets our rhythm.
Like All the Beaches of the World is built on the poet’s magnetic field with its unaffected, dry, refined diction and the perceptive gaze on intimate aspects of life, phenomena, and objects. That said, the dominant sentiment of this book is insurmountable sadness, which floats within the poems in the form of different beings—dolls with their hair and eyelashes done, ghosts who remain only as déjà vu-like traces, and sea cucumber and sea pineapple that don’t understand each other. The different forms of life carry their respective woe. As a literary critic once remarked, such sentimentality is a sign that connotes the expression of one’s wounded and tattered inside as not the process but the goal, and the readers are to witness its movement toward the world that evokes sadness.