I entered Korea’s Boryeong Mud Festival late; all of the youth were happily slipping and sliding and just caked in the stuff. My t-shirt was still white. Not a good look for anyone at a mud festival, but especially not for me–an old man in his mid-thirties–surrounded by kids nearly half my age. These kids needed the mud because they were stupid; I needed the mud just to fit in. A few years ago, I had gone to the … →
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