“But....” I tried to ask him if he knew he could always ask someone in the supermarket. But I knew he wouldn’t do that, because he would lose face, a face of a country man like no other men.
“But what?” He looked as if annoyed by my sudden interruption, commanding, “Eat your noodles and listen!”
The tone in his voice was unfamiliar. I couldn’t distinguish between his stubbornness and his anger. Sensing the smell of gunpowder, I became alert and let him talk.
“There’s a big diff erence between a city and a village. The best thing about a city is, you can buy anything you can think of, anything in all shapes and sizes, anything from all over the world. Anything but not anything you want, like you cannot buy the nostalgic taste in your memory. Even the horrible taste of the soap noodles was unique. Wasn’t it?”