Searching for Butterflys
I have an email address, I've copied it, it sits on the desktop of my computer with the address on it and nothing typed into the letter field. I find myself strangely hesitant to write anything, oddly scared to send it and don't quite understand why I feel such strong emotion wash me when I examine this blank note with Ding's name on it. I did not expect this.
When I was 8 or 9 years old I wrote to a young boy in Korea--I don't remember how this correspondence began but we wrote each other many times and I remember one day getting a note from him which included a very well drawn pencil sketch of an American Indian chief with the full headdress of Eagle feathers, remember quite distinctly my admiration of it and a vague jealousy. I think I stopped writing shortly after that and on the odd occasion that I do remember I also regret that I never continued, regret as well losing touch with these very special persons from M. Butterfly, my only excuse being a busy life and a continents distance from each other.
And I don't quite understand why, that though I have this regret at losing contact, I have as well a fear of reopening it. Perhaps it's a fear of change -- will they still be the same? Am I still the same?
The Google search for Man Wong was not fruitful, or maybe overly so: do you have any idea how many Man Wongs there are? He is legion.
I shall have to ask Ding as to his whereabouts.