I say, “No, it’s about dancing. I want to talk to people about the trancey state you can reach where you don’t think about anything. I’m going to start in India. I’m also thinking about Bavaria. Spain. Probably Texas, too. I visited my friend in the States and saw line-dancing for the first time and it was so uplifting. I liked the synchronicity and the feeling of community.”

You say, “Sounds trememdous. I heard that line-dancing is for people who have no imagination.”

You’re being mean and you don’t sound like you. I tell you I’m sorry for not writing sooner and that I understand why you’d be pissed about it. You sigh. “I’m not. You seem well, and I’m happy for you, honestly. And I think it’s great, your little dance movie idea.”

I laugh. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“No.” You take a sip from my tea. You screw up your face in disgust as you return the cup to its saucer. “I can’t help myself.”

Freaky, huh? So anyway, I really am taking off to do my little dance movie, in exactly twenty-four hours in fact. My uncle and aunts insisted on a send-off, so we had a barbecue yesterday at Aunt Mei’s cottage on the river. It’s the first time I’ve seen everyone in months, and it’s beautiful: sky and mountains all around and green, green fields. We sit around the barbecue pit, my uncle and aunts and cousins, roasting meat and fish over white-hot coals. Aunt Mei fusses over me, insists I don’t have enough mosquito spray on and pushes the aerosol into my hands. Aunt Flora’s dishing out her homemade sweet rice soup. Did I tell you her husband screwed around, went bankrupt, and left her with loan sharks graffiting threats over the front of her apartment? Now she’s an obsessive angler. She sits in a boat on a lake in the middle of nowhere with her fishing rod and a floppy sun hat and stays there for hours. I think it calms her.

Uncle Yun tells me about wanting to get out of electronics, maybe opening up a café instead. He’s also started Korean classes. He’s a little bit shy and a little bit proud when he demonstrates the few phrases he can say: Hello. How are you. Would you like some tea.

I look at them all, and I think: We’re showing each other so much love. But see what it took…

So the sun is setting, I’ve got a million mosquito bites on my legs, and I’m getting on a plane tomorrow. I have my passport, ticket, and $$$. Adios my friend, and thank you and good luck with everything. See you in the next life. // Yi