Bts цветок love yourself

ARMY строят теории о том, что цветок Смеральдо вновь расцветает в 2020 году

Если вы подумали, что эра «LOVE YOURSELF» закончилась, подумайте еще раз!

Еще в 2017 году знаменитый «Цветочный блог Смеральдо» появился незадолго до того, как BTS выпустили первый альбом своей серии «LOVE YOURSELF: HER».

Блог Смеральдо, неактивный с 2018 года, предоставлял поклонникам справочную информацию, созданную BigHit для воображаемого цветка из вселенной BTS.

Официальный аккаунт BTS «Книга Смеральдо» в Твиттере также был неактивен в течение некоторого времени. Последний твит был сделан 10 апреля 2019 года для продвижения веб-сайта группы.

Несмотря на это, фанаты следили за развитием событий, и их настороженность их не подвела!

6 июля ARMY заметили, что cодержимое «цветочного блога» было стёрто, а уже на следующий день BTS загрузили новое видео «Bangtan Bomb», которое могло ссылаться на этот цветок из волшебной страны.

Стечение обстоятельств? Поклонники так не считают!

Почему цветок Смеральдо расцветает в 2020 году? Некоторые фанаты считают, что это может быть связано с возвращением BTS, в то время как другие говорят, что это как-то связано с новой игрой (запланированной на июль — сентябрь).

Прямо сейчас, возможности безграничны!

Возможно, сюрприз находится прямо за углом…

Трилогия BTS «Love Yourself» выигрывает премию Red Dot Design Award 2020

Трилогия BTS «Love Yourself» — победитель «Red Dot Design Award 2020» в номинации «Brands & Communication Design».

Упаковка и дизайн серии «Love Yourself», которая состоит из трех альбомов, выпущенных с 2017 по 2018 год, были признаны за органичное отображение историй и посыла в каждом альбоме.

«Red Dot Design Award» — это всемирно известная церемония награждения дизайнеров, которая началась в 1955 году, а 2020 год — 66-й год, когда проводится данное мероприятие. В этом году компании и организации из более чем 50 стран представили на суд около 7000 проектов.

Дизайн упаковки «Love Yourself» несет послание, которое проходит по всей серии в виде цветущего цветка и передать волнение от зарождения любви, боли от столкновения с поддельной любовью и идею о том, что любить себя — это и есть начало настоящей любви.

«Love Yourself: Wonder» показывает бутон цветка до его цветения, в то время как мини-альбом «Love Yourself: Her» показывает цветок в полном расцвете. В третьем альбоме «Love Yourself: Tear» изображен падающий лепесток цветка, а в переизданном альбоме «Love Yourself: Answer» изображен оставшийся лепесток цветка в виде сердца, которое представляет собой реализацию себя и завоевание чувства собственного достоинства.

С четырьмя версиями для каждого альбома, а в общей сложности 12 альбомов, обложки, компакт-диски и фотокарточки также собираются вместе, чтобы создать одно большое изображение, когда они размещаются рядом.

Ранее BTS «Love Yourself: Tear» был номинирован на премию «Grammy» в 2019 году в категории «Best Recording Package».

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HYYH Notes Pt 2 (Love Yourself: Tear)

To read an introduction to these notes and/or Part 1 (the diary entries before YEAR 22), click here.

Some of the later diary entries introduce another character, unnamed but evidently important. Hoseok and Taehyung call them ‘that kid’; while I have translated it quite literally, it can also be considered as an affectionate way to say ‘that punk’. In these entries, the character is also given a gender-neutral term. Because the gender-neutral term is clunky, and it can be assumed that they are the girls of the Highlight Reels, I have used my discretion to translate them in the feminine third person. For Jimin, Namjoon, and Seokjin’s diary entries, the new character is obviously female and is written as such.

Translation Note:
– ‘Hyung’ is a Korean designation used by a male to an older male whom he has a close relationship with. ‘Noona’ is by a male to an older female. ‘Dongsaeng’ is by either gender for someone younger.
– There are no English equivalents of these word, and so I have kept them as they are, but only when it is used as a direct term of reference. For example, you may see Taehyung call for “hyung” as he hurries over, but he will not think of Namjoon ‘hyung’ in his head, he will simply think of Namjoon.

Seokjin, 11 April YEAR 22

With a screech, the car stopped. Having fallen into thought, I had not seen the traffic lights change. Students with familiar uniforms stared at me through the car window as they crossed the road. There were even people pointing at me. I gave a strained smile as I drooped my head.

I knew what I had to do. But that did not mean I was not afraid. Would I truly be able to end all this misfortune and pain? Don’t repeated failures mean there can never be any success? Shouldn’t I be giving up? Isn’t our happiness only a vain hope? So many thoughts came and left.

Without realising, I had reached the road of the petrol station and I could see Namjoon working there. I drank a deep breath in before exhaling slowly. I thought of Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook’s faces, one at a time. And with that, I changed lanes and entered the petrol station. I could not give up. Even if there was only a 1% chance, I would not give up. Over my window, I could see Namjoon come closer.

Jungkook, 2 May YEAR 22

I lifted my head to see Namjoon in front of the container. He opened the door and stepped inside. He gathered all the garments scattered around the floor as a blanket, and huddled there. The chill came. My whole body shook badly and I felt like I wanted to cry. But I couldn’t even do that.

When I opened the door and entered, Yoongi was standing on top of the bed. The train of the sheet was blazing on fire. In that moment, an anger and fear that I could not contain enveloped me whole. I was not someone who could speak well. Expressing my feelings, persuading another – I was awkward at both. As tears gathered and I began to cough, it became even harder to speak. The only words I could spit out as I ran into the blaze was “We said we’d all go to the sea together.”

“Why are you like this? Did you have a nightmare or something?” Due to someone shaking my shoulder, I opened my eyes. It was Namjoon. Strangely enough, a feeling of security fell upon me. He lay his hand on me and said I had a fever. It really felt like I did. The inside of mouth felt like it was boiling, but it was intensely cold otherwise. I had a splitting headache and my throat hurt. I could barely have the medicine hyung gave me. “Sleep more. Let’s talk later.” I nodded my head. And then I spoke. “Will I be able to become an adult like you?” Namjoon hyung turned to look at me.

Jimin, 19 May YEAR 22

In the end, I had to go to the arboretum. I had to give up on the lies – that I did not remember what had happened there. Hiding out in the hospital, having seizures – I had to stop all these things. And to do that, I had to go to that place. With that decided in my heart, I had come to this bus stop for days on end. But I had not been able to ride the shuttle bus to the arboretum.

Yoongi dropped down onto the seat next to me after three buses had already come and gone. When I asked why he’d come, he said it was because he had nothing to do and was bored. And with that, he asked why I was sitting here like this. With a bowed head, I hit the ground with the edge of shoe. I thought about why I was sitting here like this. It was because I had no courage. I wanted to pretend I was okay now, pretend to know something now, pretend that I was able to easily deal with such things now – but I was actually afraid. What I’d run into, whether I’d be able to bear it, if I wouldn’t have a seizure again – I was afraid of all these things.

Yoongi looked at ease. As if there was nothing in the world deserving to be rushed, he said that the weather was good, and other useless things. Only once I heard this did I realise that the weather really was good today. I had been so anxious that I had not been able to survey my surroundings. The sky was so blue. A warm breeze blew intermittently. And the shuttle bus to the arboretum was coming. The bus stopped and the door opened. The driver looked at me. I impulsively asked.

“Hyung. Can you come with me?”

Taehyung, 20 May YEAR 22

I looked down at my hands. There was blood on them. My legs suddenly lost their strength. I was going to crouch down but someone hugged me from behind. Through the windows, a misty sunlight was filtering through. Noona was crying and Hoseok was standing there without speaking. Dirty household goods and blankets were, like always, spread around. Where my father had stood, nobody was there. How he had fled the room, I could not remember.

The uncontainable anger and sadness that I felt as I rushed towards my father still remained. I did not know what it was that had allowed me to control myself as I charged to stab my father. I also did not know how to calm my turbulent heart. It wasn’t that I wanted to kill my father – I wanted to kill myself. If I was just able to do it, I wanted to die right now. I didn’t even have tears. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to kick and break everything, I wanted to break, but I couldn’t do any of those things.

“Hyung. I’m sorry. I’m okay so. Go.” In contrast to my turbulent heart, my voice was came out dry. It did not seem like my voice. I sent him away, though he was loathe to leave, and I looked down at my hands. Blood was seeping through the white bandage. Instead of stabbing my father, I had hit the floor with the liquor bottle. As the bottle shattered, my palm had ripped. As I closed my eyes, the world spinned. What I was supposed to think, what I was supposed to do, how I was supposed to live. As I came to my senses, I was looking down at Namjoon’s phone number. Even in such a situation – no, more so because it was such a situation, I was desperate for his presence. I wanted to tell him. Hyung. I – my father, the father that bore me, the father that beat me up daily – I was about to kill him. I was seriously about to kill him. No, in actual fact, I killed him. I killed him countless times. In my heart, I killed him repeatedly. I wanted to kill him. I want to die. What I have to do now, I don’t know at all. Hyung. I just want to see you now.

Hoseok, 20 MAY YEAR 22

Taking Taehyung, we left the police station. “You did well.” Lowering my head, I spoke with spirit, though I didn’t really feel that way. From the police station, it wasn’t too far to Taehyung’s house. If he lived much further away, would there have been less reason for Taehyung to enter the police station so often? Why did Taehyung’s parents decide to live so close to a police station? To such a boy who was so kind to the point of idiocy, the world was too unfair. I put an arm around his shoulder and asked “Are you hungry?” pretending nothing was wrong. Taehyung shook his head. I asked him “Did the hyungs at the police station say it was good to see you and buy you food?” but Taehyung did not give any answer.

Into the sunshine, the two of us walked. Within my heart, a cold wind blew. If even my heart was like this, how would he be feeling? Would he have any of his heart left? How much pain would be in his heart? Because I was thinking such things, I could not look him in the face, and instead turned up to the sky. Through the faint sunshine, a plane was passing by. The first time I saw the scars on Taehyung’s back, it was when I had met him in Namjoon’s container hideout. Though nobody could speak because he had smiled so cutely at his excitement in receiving a shirt, a part of my heart had broken.

I had no parents. I had no recollection of my father, and my mum too, I only knew until the age of seven. If we were speaking about the pain received by parents in one’s childhood, I myself had received enough. People say this: that you have to overcome your pain, that you have to accept it and get used to it. That you have to reconcile and forgive them. That it’s the only way to live. It’s not that I don’t know. It’s not that I reject it out of hatred. But some things can’t be done just by trying. Nobody told me how. Before I became hardened enough for this world, it gave me new wounds. I do know that there are no people with no wounds by the world. But why is it necessary to have such deep wounds? For what reason is it necessary? Why do we have to live such a life?

“Hyung. It’s okay. I can go alone.” He spoke at the crossroads. “I know, kid.” Without concern, I took the lead. “It’s truly okay. Look. I’m fine.” Taehyung smiled at me. I did not respond. There was no way he could be okay. He was not fine, but once he acknowledged that, it would be hard to go on. So he was ignoring it. It had become his habit. Taehyung flipped over his hooded t-shirt and came to follow me. “You’re really not hungry, right?” I asked him as we reached the corridor of his home. Taehyung gave a dumb smile and nodded his head. I watched him walk through the corridor with his back turned, and then turned myself. The corridor that the kid was walking through, the street I was returning by – they were both narrow and desolate. That kid, and myself, both alone. I was just about to turn around when the phone rang.

Namjoon, 22 May YEAR 22

“We’re only a year apart. No, apparently someone said so. I’m the hyung, of course. I know. But they can’t be a young kid forever. Isn’t it time that they deal with it alone? Fine. I said it’s fine. No, I’m not getting angry. I apologise.”

Hanging up the phone, I looked down at the floor. The lukewarm sea breeze shook the pine forest as it passed by. I felt like my heart was going to burst. On the ground, half dirt rather than sand, ants lined up to head in some direction. If someone had the ability to understand me, both in the material and symbolic sense, would they be able to see where I was going – and why?

It’s not that I didn’t love my parents. It’s not that I wasn’t worried for my younger sibling. If I could, I’d ignore them, but because I can’t be anything other than myself, I definitely couldn’t do that. So if that’s the case, what was the point in struggling like this anyway – getting angry, frustrated, and wanting to leave?

I saw the back of someone in the distance, standing as if holding a grudge, much like myself. It was Jungkook. There was a time Jungkook had said this: “I want to become an adult like you, hyung.” Back then, I could not respond. That I’m not such a good adult – no, that I’m not even an adult. Back then, it felt like that would be too cruel to say. I had to acknowledge his trust and interest somewhat; I could not tell such a young friend who had not received affection that just because one grows older, taller, and lives a bit more, it did not mean they became an adult. I had wished that Jungkook’s future would be a bit kinder than mine, but I wasn’t able to promise that I would help his growth. Approaching him, I put my arm around his shoulder. Jungkook raised his eyes and looked at me.

Yoongi, 15 June YEAR 22

The clanking, ringing noise in my head of music was the only thing I could recognise. How much I’d drunk, where this was, what I was doing. Didn’t want to know, not even important. I saw it was night as I stumbled outside. I swayed. Whether it was a passerby, kiosk or wall, I just crashed into it however. It didn’t matter. I just wanted to forget everything.

Past a hospital door left ajar, Jungkook was lying down. I didn’t even realise that I swivelled my head back. I couldn’t look. At that moment, suddenly, the sound of a piano, a fire, a building crashing down could be heard. I wrapped my head in my arms and slid to the ground. It said it was because of me. It said if only I didn’t exist. The voice of my mum – no, my own voice – no, someone else’s voice. With those words, I was pained for a long time. I wanted to believe it wasn’t so. But Jungkook was lying there. In a corridor where patients were going to and fro as if dead, Jungkook was lying there. I truly could not enter. I could not check. As I stood, my legs swayed. As I went back, tears formed. It was a funny thing. I didn’t remember the last time I’d cried.

As I was trying to cross the road, I turned around, for someone grabbed onto my arm. Who was it? No, it didn’t matter. Whoever it was, it’d be the same. Don’t come near. Go. Please just leave me alone. I don’t want to hurt you too. I don’t want to get hurt. So please don’t come closer.

Hoseok, 4 July YEAR 22

While they were applying emergency assistance, I came into the corridor. Though it was night, quite a few people were still there, pacing. There was water dripping from my hair, drenched in rain and sweat. As I was shaking my hair, I dropped the kid’s bag. Random things fell out. Coins rolled away, as pens and towels scattered too. And in the midst of it, there was an airplane e-ticket. Taking hold of it, I scanned the information.

Then, the doctor called for me. He said I did not have to worry for it was a light concussion, and after a moment, the kid came out. “You okay?” She said her head hurt a little as she took her bag to carry it. With that movement, she saw the e-ticket peeping out, and turned to look at my face. I switched shoulders to carry the bag and pretending nothing was wrong, I pressed on. As we came to the entrance, the rain continued to fall. We stood side by side at the door.

“Hoseok.” The kid called out to me. She had the expression of someone who had something to say. “Wait a moment. I’ll buy an umbrella.” I just ran into the rain without a thought. There was a corner store over there. I had known that recently, that kid had auditioned for an international dance team. That she had ordered a plane ticket would mean that they had been accepted. I did not want to hear what she had to say. I did not have the confidence to congratulate her.

Jimin, 4 July YEAR 22

When I came to my senses, I was washing my arm as if to scrape the skin off. My hands were shaking and my breath was unsteady. Blood ran down my arm. The eyes in the mirror were bloodshot. The events that just occurred came back to me in fragments.

In a split second, my concentration shattered. I was paired with a noona from my dance club for this dance, but our movements became tangled and we bumped into each other. I fell to the rough ground and my arm started to bleed. At that moment, the events that had occurred at the flowering arboretum came back to me. It was something I thought I had overcome. But it was not so. I had to run away. I had to cleanse myself. I had to hide. The person in the mirror would always be the eight year old child who ran through the rain. And then, it came to me. Noona, too, had fallen.

Nobody was there in the practice room. Past the door left ajar, the rain was pouring in violently. I could see Hoseok running. He was getting drenched. I ran to him with an umbrella. I finally stopped in my tracks.

There was nothing I could do. All I could do was fall and get someone hurt, and then get scared by being hurt myself and forgetting them, and then running back too late and stopping. I walked the other way. Every time I took a step, raindrops splashed on my sneakers. Headlights of a car spun past. It was not okay. No, it was okay. It did not hurt. This wasn’t even a wound. I really was okay.

Namjoon, 13 July YEAR 22

I leant my head on the bus window. From the library to the petrol station. The road I travel daily, the boringly normal landscape sped past the window. Would there be a day I would escape this landscape. It seemed impossible to judge what tomorrow would bring, or to wish for something.

Ahead of me, I could see a girl with a yellow hair tie sitting there. As if she was sighing, her shoulders lifted up before dropping. And then she put her head on the window. For a month already, we had studied at the same library and gotten on the bus at the same stop. Though we had not said a word to each other, we were looking at the same landscape, living through the same time, and sighing the same sigh. The hair tie was still in my pants pocket.

The girl always got off three stops before me. Whenever she stepped off, I wondered if she would be going to hand out flyers again. What sort of day would she have to have, what sort of work would she have to do. How much frustration would she feel, for a tomorrow that felt like it would not come; like a thing like tomorrow did not exist in the first place. I thought of such things.

The stop that she had to get off was reaching closer. Someone pressed the bell, and passengers stood from their seats. But the girl wasn’t one of them. Just leaning her head on the window sill, she kept seated. It seemed as if she was asleep. Should I wake her? I was momentarily conflicted. The bus was reaching the stop. The girl continued to be unmoving. People got off. The doors shut, and the bus departed.

The girl did not wake between the next three stops. As I approached the bus exit, I was conflicted once more. I was sure that nobody else would care for her, after I left. The girl would wake far from where she needed to be, and her day was bound to become much more tiring as a result of it.

Leaving the bus stop, I started to walk towards the petrol station. The bus left and I did not look back. On top of her bag, I put her hair tie down, but that was all. That was not the beginning, or even the end. It was nothing from the very beginning, and there was no reason for there to be anything. So I really thought it was indeed nothing.

Taehyung, 17 July YEAR 22

I thought my side was going to rip apart in pain. My sweat dripped. The hiding place in the railway, the empty lot behind the corner store, underneath the overpass, the kid was not to be found. I ran even to the bus stop but here too, she was unable to be seen. Those waiting for the bus stared at me strangely. What had happened? We hadn’t promised to meet, but it was still strange. The kid always turned up somewhere, and followed me wherever I went. Even if I said she was annoying, it was useless. But in any of the places we’d been together, the kid could not be found.

Having arrived at a familiar wall, I stopped my footsteps. It was graffiti we had done together. It was also the first artwork she had completed. On top of it, a huge X sign had been drawn. It was that kid. I hadn’t even seen her, but I still knew. How? There was no answer, per se. But on the wall, there were many images superimposed on each other.

The way she had laughed on the day I lay on the railway and hurt my head. The way she had helped me rise after I fell trying to help; her expression when she had been mad that I stole her bread to eat it. The way her expression would dim when we passed a family portrait store. The way her eyes would unknowingly trail after passing students. As we sprayed this wall, I had said this: “If something’s hard, don’t just suffer alone, and tell me.” The X was drawn over all our memories. It felt like they were saying all of those things were fake. It felt like they were saying everything was a lie. Without knowing, I curled my hand into a fist. Why? There was no answer, of course. I turned and walked away. I was alone again. That kid, and myself, both alone.

Jungkook, 26 July YEAR 22

In the hospital flower bed, I secretly snapped a flower. Because I was continuously on the verge of laughter, I dropped my head. The midsummer sunlight was blinding. I knocked on the room of the hospital door but there was no response. I knocked once more and then opened the door a fraction. Inside the room, it was for some reason, chilly. And there was nobody there. There was only a quiet darkness that draped over the room.

I left the hospital room. In my boredom and frustration, I pushed the wheelchair, cutting through the corridors speedily, when I met the kid. Because I came so suddenly, I barely stopped by a girl who tied her hair in one. As we left the hospital, I saw a bench. I remembered that at one point, we had sat down and listened to music while drawing. And up there on that rooftop, we had shared strawberry milk too. While in the hands there had always been wildflowers, now there was nobody to give it to.

Seokjin, 30 August YEAR 22

Who would be able to remember the moment love begins. Who would be able to predict the moment when love ends. Why might it be that humans are not given the ability to perceive such moments. And why is it that I have been given the ability to restore everything to the way it had been.

The car suddenly stopped, headlights flashing, as it crashed into the victim, who was thrown up before she fell. Facing these disturbing moments, all I did was stand there, defenceless. I could not hear anything and I could not feel anything. Though it was summer, the wind felt cold. Following the road, there was a sound of something rolling away and falling. And then, the smell of flowers. Only then was I able to come back even a little to reality. The smeraldo bunch of flowers dropped limply from my hands. She was in the middle of the road. From between her hair, blood was running down. Dark blood trickled down the road. And I thought. If only I could turn back time.