One in a Million Wings

A Story That Began on a Lemon Tree Last Summer

It was last summer.

On our small lemon tree, an old companion plant in our home,
a tiny caterpillar appeared.

It was round like a little pea.
Small, green, and strangely adorable in the most unexpected way.

At first, I was simply curious.

But as I checked on it day after day,
that little caterpillar quietly became part of my daily life.

How much did it grow today?
Would it be okay in the rain?
Was the sun too hot?
What if the wind knocked it down?

Watching that tiny life hold on to a lemon leaf,
I found myself caring more than I expected.

Before a butterfly becomes a butterfly,
a caterpillar sheds its skin several times.

In Korean, each stage is called ryeong (齡),
a step in its fragile journey of becoming.

It hatches, eats, grows, hides, waits,
and sheds another old skin.

With that small body,
it keeps moving toward the next version of itself.

For some reason, that stayed with me.

Because maybe we are the same.

Even when we look fine on the outside,
inside, we are always shedding something.

We endure.
We wait.
We change quietly.
We become someone slightly different, little by little.

That summer was especially hot.
And there were sudden heavy rains.

On the morning it rained, I kept looking back on my way to work.

I should have covered the tree.
I should have moved the pot inside.
It will be okay, right?
It has to be okay.

But we cannot protect everything.

When the sun came out again,
one of the caterpillars was gone.

Later, I found it very quietly on the ground.

It had come so far.

Just a little more time,
and it might have become a chrysalis.

Just a little more time,
and it might have opened its wings.

The thought made my heart drop.

I did not know a heart could break so much
over such a small life.

And then, a few days later,
almost like a small miracle,
a large swallowtail butterfly filled with lemon-colored light
appeared right in front of me.

Its wings were still wet.
Its body seemed a little heavy.
It moved carefully, like a child seeing the world for the first time.

And somehow, I knew.

It was you.

The one who waited.
The one who endured.
The one who hid in silence
and finally opened its wings.

In that moment,
the sadness I had been carrying quietly softened.

Not every life returns in the same form.

But sometimes, hope comes back to us
with a different pair of wings.

Since that day, I have looked at butterflies differently.

A butterfly was not always a butterfly.

It was once a small and fragile life
that passed through heat, rain, fear, hiding, and waiting.

It had to survive days no one saw.
It had to trust a transformation it could not yet understand.

So when I see a butterfly fly now,
it no longer feels like just a beautiful scene.

It feels like a quiet declaration from a life that survived.

“I made it this far.”

Maybe PALALALA Records began in the same way.

It did not begin as something grand.

It began with one small heart.

A wish that a song could become a little comfort for someone.
A wish that even on wounded days, someone could smile again.
A wish to tell those who cannot see their wings yet:

“Something is still growing inside you.”

Last summer, the lemon-winged butterfly that rose from our lemon tree
left that message with me.

Even on days when you want to give up,
even on days when you are too tired to do anything,
maybe you are not finished.

Maybe you are simply passing through your next ryeong (齡).

Maybe your wings are not missing.

Maybe they are still growing.

That is why I keep making songs.

Like that swallowtail butterfly with lemon-colored wings,
PALALALA Records is slowly, sincerely,
flying toward more Dreamers.

Where are you in your journey right now?

Maybe you are in your caterpillar days.
Maybe you are quietly waiting like a chrysalis.
Maybe your wings have just opened,
and you are still learning how to dry them in the light.

Wherever you are,
I hope this song can whisper to you:

Your wings have not disappeared.

Let’s hold on a little longer.

One day, surely,
you will meet your own sky🦋💛

With love,
JANE
 

For My Global Dreamers 🌍

작년 여름,  레몬나무에서 날아오른 호랑나비는 제게 말해주는 것 같았습니다. 아직 날개가 보이지 않아도, 우리 안에서는 조용히 무언가 자라고 있다고요🦋

🇯🇵 昨年の夏、家族のレモンの木からレモン色の蝶が羽ばたきました。まだ羽が見えない時でも、心の中では静かに何かが育っているのかもしれません。

🇮🇩 Musim panas lalu, kupu-kupu bersayap lemon terbang dari pohon lemon keluarga saya. Ia mengingatkan saya bahwa bahkan saat kita merasa kecil dan lelah, sayap kita mungkin sedang tumbuh diam-diam.

🇻🇳 Mùa hè năm ngoái, một chú bướm mang đôi cánh màu chanh đã bay lên từ cây chanh của gia đình tôi. Nó nhắc tôi rằng đôi cánh của chúng ta có thể vẫn đang lớn lên trong lặng lẽ.

🇹🇭 เมื่อฤดูร้อนปีที่แล้ว ผีเสื้อปีกสีเลมอนบินขึ้นจากต้นเลมอนของครอบครัวฉัน มันทำให้ฉันนึกว่า แม้ในวันที่เราเหนื่อย ปีกของเราอาจกำลังเติบโตอย่างเงียบ ๆ

🇪🇸 El verano pasado, una mariposa con alas color limón nació de nuestro limonero. Me recordó que, incluso cuando nos sentimos pequeños o cansados, nuestras alas pueden seguir creciendo en silencio.

🇵🇹 No verão passado, uma borboleta de asas cor de limão nasceu do limoeiro da minha família. Ela me lembrou que, mesmo quando estamos cansados, nossas asas podem estar crescendo em silêncio.

🇫🇷 L’été dernier, un papillon aux ailes couleur citron s’est envolé de notre citronnier. Il m’a rappelé que même lorsque nous nous sentons petits ou fatigués, nos ailes peuvent encore grandir en silence.

🎧 Listen to PALALALA BUTTERFLY
🦋 Join the Dreamers
💛 Let your wings remember the sky