I live in South Korea. It’s my home, but it’s not my home. This is a fictionalized true story of me coming to some resolution about the contradiction. It happened about two weeks ago and I hope it’s as fun to read as it was to write. Please comment if it is. Thank you.
My summer vacation was fun enough. I went to a beach; I drank apple martinis; I spent time writing; I slept late; I got really physical with a Korean girl in a damn sauna of a club called Club Maktum down in Busan on a night where I was a good wing man to a sexually frustrated friend, but slept alone. It was fun enough, but it wasn’t what I planned.
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