A childhood rarely disappears all at once. It wears away – through silence, repetition, erosion, and the quiet frictions of living; through witnessing, and through all that remains unspoken. What, then, survives? Worncumulus: A Weathered Song is a multi-channel sound installation composed of two entwining cords of sound, each gradually wearing against the other. One strand circles through the sounds of mechanical repetition and malfunction: rotating wheels, cassette tapes idling and spinning, radio static searching for meaningful signals, and other soft noises of exhaustion, erosion, interruption and decay. The other drifts through an imagined, absent child singing on cassette, whose voice seems to weather with the tape itself, yet clings to its innocence and persistence. Together, these sounds evoke an unresolved childhood that persists beneath adulthood. Installed throughout the Gwangju Theatre that outlived generations, the sound travels through its architectural surfaces, turning this body of archive into a subject of singing, a cassette at work. The work responds to this nearly century-old theatre, which unexpectedly echoes the cinemas that shaped the artist’s own childhood memories. It listens for the quiet climate that time leaves behind: fatigue, tenderness, interruption, persistence, and the fragile desire to keep singing, lifting, becoming.