Van Gogh Reborn!

Chapter 248:

Chapter 248

Banksy (7)

I was glad to see them, as I thought they might not come.

“Um... uh...”

Vida Lavani approached me and hesitated.

The other Muslim kids who came with Adley also looked around nervously.

I felt sorry for them, wondering how hard their lives must have been to be so cautious at their age.

“Welcome.”

All I could do was greet them warmly and smile. Lavani opened her mouth.

“I... I told them we could have some snacks.”

“So what? It’s true.”

I prepared the chocolate and cookies to enjoy together.

I hoped they understood that it was not a payment for the painting.

“Adley!”

Olivier spotted Adley and waved at him.

Adley seemed happy and walked briskly towards Olivier.

“Can you help me with the snacks?”

“Okay!”

Lavani answered brightly.

As we went to the grandfather’s car and handed out the chocolate and tarts, more kids gathered.

There were many more than yesterday or the day before. Some of them painted with the grandfather, some of them hugged Blanche.

Some of them painted whatever they wanted, and some of them chatted with their friends and ate snacks.

“Kids, have some juice and play.”

“Wow!”

A man who ran a cafe nearby came out with his hands full of apple juice.

“Here, Hoon, you too.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you? I’m the one who should thank you. I haven’t seen my kid so happy in a long time.”

I looked in the direction the man was looking and saw a smiling child.

He looked just like his dad, with curly hair and brown skin.

“Oh, sir. Thank you for your hard work.”

The man offered juice to the grandfather as well.

“What are you talking about? I’ll drink it well.”

There was a small incident in the middle, but in the end, we were together, whether we were Muslim, French, or Korean.

If we had a little courage to approach each other, and painting and chocolate, we could be this happy.

-Next news. A few days ago, the painter Go Soo-yeol and Ko Hun conducted a participatory art project at Dali Square and became a hot topic. We went to the scene to report.

Ko Hun and Go Soo-yeol were introduced on the evening news of TF1, the largest broadcaster in France.

-This is the hill that leads to the so-called pink house from Dali Square. The painter Go Soo-yeol and Ko Hun, his grandson, have been painting sunflowers with the residents here since last week. The uphill road, which is about 100m long, now has only about 30m left. The residents say that the street has become lively with the laughter of children and the street paintings. This is Luca Perez for the 20 o’clock news.

The video broadcasted by TF1 20 o’clock news showed children from different countries laughing and playing together.

People who were tired of repeated terror and hate crimes welcomed the heartwarming story.

└Nice.

└Every time I watch the news, I get angry because someone cheated or committed corruption. This is a good news for a change.

└Look at the kids smiling ᅲᅲ I really want to give them something.

└But really, these days, there’s no place for kids to play with ease.

└Right. The world is scary, isn’t it? What if something happens when they go out and play? I don’t know if there are so many adults around.

└But are all the snacks and materials paid by Go Soo-yeol?

└He does it because he wants to, I guess.

└It’s not Go Soo-yeol, but Ko Hun who started it.

└Can someone tell me the sponsorship account? I want to contribute a little.

└Is that art? He’s not even painting by himself.

└Critics call it participatory art.

└This is a bit different, but in modern art, there are many cases where teams are formed and carried out. It’s too much work to do alone, so he just provides the idea.

└Anyway, it’s really nice to see. I’ve been through all kinds of things living in France, but I hope it changes a little bit like that.

As the voluntary participation of residents and influencers such as Alex Wood and Blanche Fabre continued.

The media and critics also joined in.

-You went there last time. The shopping mall.

-Oh. I remember.

“Yeah. They want you to do a mural work for them. They said you can draw with the kids like you did at Dallida Square.”

-That sounds good.

“Really?”

-Yes, really.

“Hmm. I’ll look into it more. Actually.”

Bang Taeho told him about some of the incidents that happened at the stores in Beugrenelle.

“So I want to see if they really have the will to improve.”

-I’ll leave that to you, uncle.

Bong Taeho smiled faintly at the thought of being trusted by Ko Hun.

-But it turned out to be really necessary.

“What was?”

-A place for the kids to play.

“Oh.”

-They have nowhere to go after they finish working on the Dallida Square.

-They said they don’t want to send them to the park because it’s not sanitary.

Bong Taeho nodded.

Unlike some French people who considered even rats as animals to be protected, people from other countries couldn’t let their children go to a park infested with rodents.

There were also frequent accidents of children being bitten by rats.

“Alright. I’ll look for a better place even if the Vuegrenelli deal doesn’t work out.”

-Thank you, sir.

Bong Taeho chuckled.

“Sure. I’ll contact you again. Teacher, get some rest.”

-Thanks. You’ve worked hard too.

Bong Taeho took a deep breath after ending the call.

‘I chose the right person.’

Bong Taeho, who had been exposed to art since he came of age and had worked as the best curator in Korea, felt vaguely that something was changing.

He had made a lot of efforts to keep art as art, but there were few things that were directly connected like this.

In Bong Taeho’s eyes, Ko Hun was a painter who could bring about change.

If Henri Marso was preparing for a new era with new technology and powerful wealth.

Ko Hun seemed to give a small courage to people to approach art works, to understand each other.

And that thought was not only Bong Taeho’s.

How did this happen?

I took a day off yesterday because it rained, but someone came and went in the meantime.

There were children smiling brightly among the sunflowers.

Amazingly, he had drawn the features of the children who often came, such as Olivier, Adley, Amang, Jimmy, and Noel.

As I walked up the hill, I saw that Blanche and Rabani, me and Grandpa, and all the children who had worked here were drawn.

“Hey! What is this?”

“Isn’t this you?”

The children were amazed to find their own faces and their friends’ faces.

“How did this happen?”

“I wonder. What happened yesterday? Arabi, did anyone come and go yesterday?”

Grandpa asked the cafe owner who gave us drinks.

“No? I didn’t see anyone.”

Arabi, the cafe owner, couldn’t have missed someone who drew such a big picture. Then it meant he drew it at night, but why did he have to do that?

“Hmm. I think I know.”

Grandpa nodded as he looked at my portrait.

“What is it?”

“Look at this.”

Grandpa pointed to the words someone had written next to the portrait.

It said, “For the sweet souls in the red balloon.”

“What is this?”

“A message from Banksy.”

Grandpa smiled brightly.