My father was there. He arrived on a ship, and went to the garbage area to collect disposed electronic garbage. Those would then be carried back home illegally on his transportation ship, and then sold for some extra money beside his salary.

He told us how cold it was in the night. He walked with his friends because they had to save money instead of spending over buses or taxis. It took all night long. They would sometimes go back to the ship, exchanging wine with the locals for roasted/boiled chicken legs. When they walked in the winter, all they wished for was a car passing by, leaving the warm smoke behind.

Today I walk in the snow for the first time. Not cold at all, I reckon. It is because I already have a lot of winter clothing prepared by dad. His impression of the Korean winter is still so strong that he even over-prepared.

I arrived at Korea, Seoul for transit. Not cold at all, since I was staying inside its airport. I even flew further to the US. I am proud. Not of myself, but my father. He grew out of cold and hunger, to brought us up, taught us, and help us fly further, warmer.

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