The following excerpt is from one of his personal journals he kept as he followed his parents south across what would eventually become the DMZ years later. I have translated it to the best of my ability with some help from my family.
“Do you believe in God?” she asked.
You know that feeling you get that makes you want to drive into oncoming traffic? The kind that softly urges you to leap off a balcony when you’re peering over the edge of a patio? The part of you that needs to know and feel unknowables?