I was mindlessly looking out of my apartment window when suddenly, the Levelor blinds I was gazing through became the focus.

I’d received a letter from Hwasan that day, too. When I puled it from the mail box, whatever I had been thinking of was replaced. As I write, the phone rings. Now I hear the refrigerator, the furnace, the advancing of the clock. A cat wanders the neighborhood crying.

Hwasan wrote, “People want me to be Christian or Buddhist, not both. The world is going to hell and we debate labels?” Just so you know, Hwasan started a Christian Zen temple.

“People will comment,” I’ll write. “No big deal.” And then I’ll probably say something crazy just to interrupt his afternoon. “By the way,” I’ll ask. “Which hell is it the world is going to?”

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