It’s been hard without Stetson around. We wouldn’t be any emptier if a grenade had blown a crater in the apartment, leaving wreckage instead of his room.
He had done me nothing but good. …Well, he threw his dirty socks at me once… and I didn’t appreciate all of his music… and he laughed too loudly, and was always cheerful in the morning when I was still dead… and so on. But he constantly helped me with things small and large, and he had a very keen, humble mind that was willing to learn. There’s no one here any more who matches my sense of humour — and I find myself laughing at several inside jokes every day, but nobody gets them any more. I could barely begin to name his good qualities.
I can’t fully explain the course of events, but I hope he gets more than the scorn of hypocrites and fools, who sit as corrupt judges from miles away, knowing nothing beyond what they’re told, and overflowing with curses from the vengeful depths of their own violent hearts…
I hope he gets support. And I hope to see him again soon. We’re overdue for another Korean lesson.