Take this day, for example. It is a rainy day and I write something at home. I can’t remember what, but I will find it somewhere. It is an empty day, that you might say. And why. And why? Is there nothing else to say? How about the writing, that leads the way? How about all those characters we can invent, all those aspects of the mind we can explore, all those friendly words we can exchange before… before… before – whatever. “Before whatever”, hey there is a nice and “high” way to describe an attitude towards our mortal condition, don’t you think? It are just words, of course, but, gee, it’s one of the most exhilirating things about our race is that we can can we get all excited about an agglomeration of letters, we can get excited like a child who is going out to the forest to pick strawberries.
My dinner is streetfood at Namdaemun. It’s good here: I think South Korea ranges among the best countries when it comes to streetfood. Mandu, Kimbab, Ttokpokki, fish-on-a-stick, and they always provide at least one sidedish. At night, we go to a nice small bar with a bartender performing a great show, culminating in pouring four different colored drinks simultaneously from a stack of four longdrink glasses, juggling the cocktail shaker, tossing up lime wedges and a Korean bow. They put some traditional snow-shoes on the ceiling which was interesting for Tiffany since she is from Canada.