This book is a commemoration piece for my grandmother, Kim Mi-Sul. The texts were stained with soy sauce, chili powder, and sesame oil, the condiments that had a familiar aroma of her kitchen. Written in Korean, my native language, the texts were the vernaculars of my grandmother used say every time she greeted my family. Some texts were readable and others became indistinguishable, leaving only the distant scent of the sesame oil. Mimicking the traditional Korean paper making method, I created the papers using my undergarments, personal notes, and Korean newspapers as the pulp. The heavy, familiar scent and the semi-transparent vernaculars on the paper from my personal objects show not only the absence of her voice, but also the presence of her memory in me. Her remembrance underlay the yearning of a working class immigrant to visit one’s home country.