My Korean friend, Mr. Kim, who lives in HoChiMinh City, excused himself from the dozen-person dinner to sit on the bench outside the restaurant and smoke, following a fine meal.
Kim had placed third as a body-builder in the Mr. Korea competition when he was 25, and significantly beefier. These days, Kim is built more like the climber he is, still rock hard, but smaller and more taut, like bailing wire. Kim has a quiet power, at once stern, then warm and smiling.
“I should quit these things”, I offered.
“When we smoke, we should just smoke, not worry about quit smoking” Kim whispers.
We smoke in silence.
Kim spoke first, with his eyes tearing,
“I miss my little boy.”
He had been traveling for a few weeks, first Germany and now Salt Lake, far from his homes in Seoul and Viet Nam.
The teaching was complete.
I quit smoking this morning.
I just quit.
Nice. Mr. Kim sounds like Yoda! LOL!
Great pics and pleasant format 🙂 Thanks for letting us know you’ve made a commitment to a web blog. It should be fun for you. Volker and I have both registered. C