Dear Sunggyu Gyu-hyung Gyuzizi Gyu,    This is so strange haha == How do I begin? Annyeong? O? Ya-ya? Sorry this is such a messy letter and my handwriting is terrible, since the old wound is acting up again. But you understand that it's hard to restart a conversation after so many years right? I don't even remember where we were anymore in that conversation. Were we in the middle of it? Did we ever conclude? When did I last talk to you, or even see you? 40, 50 years? Definitely before your daughter Hyun Jae was born, because I don't remember meeting her. Yusuke is 50 this year by the way, and Kanako has passed on. Myungsoo helped name my grandchild, and he's called Sunghi.    I'm sorry for not writing earlier, but I suppose writing something to an old friend comes with age. So many memories only crystallise, strangely, when you're old and all other memories are failing you and all the injuries from your youth come back to haunt you. You sit in the chair carefully just so that your hip injury doesn't get in the way of your family dinner, and you can no longer wave to your son in the crowded temple because your shoulder is hurting relentlessly. There are so many remnants of my youth on me that are painful, and I don't want you to be one of them.    But that's just one of the reasons why I'm writing to you.    I saw a boy today, waiting alone at the Kamachi station. 22 years old, Korean student here on a trip. He came to Fukuoka on the ferry from Busan. I thought he bore a strong resemblance to you. Small eyes (it's been a while since I have met someone with smaller eyes than mine), and a strong youthful spirit burning within him, the desire to take over the world but yet so carefully restraining himself, because he wants everything to be perfect. He was holding on to a tourist map for the region, which he marked out meticulously with the most wondrous of details. Where he wanted to go, where he had went, how did the place feel to him.... I can't tell whether I saw the younger me in him, or the younger you. He was waiting for the hourly train and was bored to death, like you always were, so I stayed to talk. Which was one thing that reminded me of you as well - you were willing to listen to anyone, even an 85 year old man. He did most of the talking, which you did too. But whatever, I was feeling young again.    It takes an extraordinary amount of magic to make someone so settled down with his life to feel young again, hyung. I have not felt that for a long time, not since Yusuke was born, not since I met Kanako-chan here. I am happy, but in a contented satisfied-with-life-way that keeps me here, rooted and stable. I don't think the both of us would have thought of that as a great thing when we first debuted. Talking to the boy, though, was making me find myself. It was like someone holding a mirror and making me talk into it. He asked me why I moved here. I said for love. He asked if I had nobody whom I loved in Korea, as much as I loved Kanako? How can I move from Seoul to Kamachi, so isolated yet so contented?   I said I did love in Korea. I had everything to hold on to in Korea and everything to lose in Japan. But maybe it was your love, our love, that taught me how to love Kanako too. It's