I was eating pad thai for breakfast at a little food stall enjoying the shy sun of the early morning, in Pai, some time last January.
He came up to me and sat down at my table as if we knew each other from another place, another time. Determined, secure. We talked for a whole pad thai about Buddhism, about my going into a temple, about his experiences with meditation.
When I close my eyes I still can see him, his hermit looks, his bushy beard, his tranquil presence.
I bumped into him next day on the street. Not too difficult, Pai is a little village. We were sharing another meal when Sean looked me right in the eye and confessed he was alcoholic. So is my brother, I answered, just as direct as he had been.
That night we hugged goodbye and I have never seen him again. Yet.
He came up to me and sat down at my table as if we knew each other from another place, another time. Determined, secure. We talked for a whole pad thai about Buddhism, about my going into a temple, about his experiences with meditation.
When I close my eyes I still can see him, his hermit looks, his bushy beard, his tranquil presence.
I bumped into him next day on the street. Not too difficult, Pai is a little village. We were sharing another meal when Sean looked me right in the eye and confessed he was alcoholic. So is my brother, I answered, just as direct as he had been.
That night we hugged goodbye and I have never seen him again. Yet.
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