Hi Namu,    Thank you for the letter. Please excuse my handwriting too. My eyesight isn't that great now and honestly, writing seems so foreign. I've grown more accustomed to reading though, or was that an old habit that I simply picked up again? I don't know, but reading takes the boredom away from being confined to a wheelchair. Old wound from dancing days is acting up so often that I just gave up on the walking stick.   Reading your letter was somewhat surreal. I read a lot, but nothing as directed to me as this was. You know when you read and somehow you feel your emotions are played out for you by another character? That was kind of how I felt, reading about myself from you, reading about you from the new you. Everything seems so distant that they seem displaced in time, space and memory. Like we are narrators of two kids' lives, and we are simply third parties having watched a story unfold. Yet we felt every bit of struggle and every shred of bitter bliss, and their aftertaste on our chapped lips. And with those same chapped lips, we kiss our loved ones with our lifetime worth of joy, sadness and resolve.    I never thought I could fit you and Miyoon in the same sentence, but I guess I can now. She's not here anymore. Cancer, three years back. Your openness made me think that, maybe all my feelings shouldn't be disguised in polite words or masked by contorted sentences after all. Maybe nobody actually cared if I did bring you up over a dinner conversation, or mentioned that I really would have wanted to keep in touch with you. The point is, Woohyun, I miss kissing the both of you.    I love her, and I still do. And I loved you. Maybe I still do too. But I think you know what I'm talking about when I say those are very different feelings. I'm sorry if I broke you at a stage when I shouldn't have, but I must have done it because I was lost too. I learnt from her, many years into our marriage, that a lot of these hurtful moments grew from spite. If I chose to hurt you when you were lost in life, I probably was lost as well. It's not just you, but I remember those moments too. If I taught you to be vulnerable, then perhaps Miyoon taught me how to do the same. When she kissed me at our wedding, I thought our lips matched at the perfect countours and that she was of the perfect height to just tip-toe that slight inch off the ground to wrap her hands around my neck. I would think that she was too cute to be real.    I miss kissing you. I can't believe I am writing this letter in the living room facing Miyoon's altar with her photo smiling at me. But I really do. Our lips were born to be so out of sync with your lower pout and my thin lips, that everything felt so wrong in a single gesture, yet so right at the same time. We would always spend so much time trying to figure out the best angle or position to settle, and it was the effort that made it seem so right. That we bothered to work out this dance and constellation of codes on our lips, so that in every kiss was a tinge of pain but no regrets. We were so beautifully incompatible that I smile when I think of how hard we tried to make it work.    I think being old is a relative thing. Like you, I felt young again when I saw Miyoon walk down the aisle, and when I saw Hyunjae in the hospital for the very first time. But I think I really felt my age weigh down on me the night Miyoon passed on. I never felt so imprisoned by a wheelchair, because she was always my companion pushing me around. Yet that night I sat by her bed, and the whole im