Down in the safety of his backpack, tarnished fingertips quietly roll the bitternut meat into a ball and press it with a piece of mushroom into a dried out lime rind. Looking up, he thumbs on an unknown paste, and hunkers over once more - carefully removing the filter from a cigarette, laying the tube of tobacco atop the pile and inserting the whole thing into his mouth.“Something to drink, Sir?”
Franklin looks up and shakes his head furtively, chewing. I order a seltzer, and the plane-load of dozing Koreans, the Palaui firefighter and I begin our descent into Seoul.
No comments:
Post a Comment