A Ghost, a Thief, and Love divides a single word into thirds. That word never once appears in the poetry collection. I brought in a ghost, a thief, and love to explain it. Describing these three words became a form of evasion. I concluded the poetry collection without ever conclusively saying what I meant. This collection adheres to life. The poems are linked to characters, settings, and events, but the poems don't merge with them. They accompany each other, but don't meet; they are conscious of each other, but don't invite the other. Like how people continue to gaze at the sky, look at the forest, and cry where no one's there - absence can be a way of proving presence.
--- 「From “Poet’s Note”」 중에서

Knowing the outcome is not important. The only proposition we must understand is that the end is unknowable, and the insight we must gain is that life cannot be a game of piecing together a predetermined conclusion. The truly significant value lies in each moment when we choose the unknown, in focusing on how the fragments that emerge from those choices transform us. This is the testimony of Han's poetry collection.