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Yeobo,
I'm trying to stay sane. It's tough. I went to Strawberry Fields on your birthday and sat for a while. Then I walked to 32nd St. and went to the Mandu Bar. Ate some, drank some. The waiter asked for you. Cried my ass off. The last few days I've been thinking of you. I called your house one night. They said you're in the hospital and hung up. I didn't call back. Maybe the language barrier is rough, or maybe they don't want to talk to me. I don't give a shit which. I just want to talk to you. I hope you're getting better. Those fuckers better be treating you ok in the hospital. You must always let me know, and I will take care of the rest. Love you.