It was in New York I felt I was destined really "to come out from the boat."
The beginning of my new existence must be founded here. In Korea "to come out
from the boat" is an idiom meaning "to be born," as the word "pai"
for "womb" is the same as "pai" for "boat"; and there
is the story of a Korean humorist who had no money, but who needed to get across
a river. On landing him on the other side, the ferryman asked for his money. But
the Korean humorist said to the ferryman who too had just stepped out, "You
wouldn't charge your brother, would you? We both came from the same boat." And
so he traveled free. My only plea for a planet-ride among the white-skinned majority
of this New World is the same facetious argument. I brought little money, and no
prestige, as I entered a practical country with small respect for the dark side of
the moon. I got in just in time, before the law against Oriental immigration was
passed.
But New York, that magic city on rock yet ungrounded, nervous, flowing, million-hued
as a dream, became, throughout the years I am recording, the vast mechanical incubator
of me. |