15 Minutes with Alexander
He waits tables at Havana’s Ambos Mundos, where Hemingway stayed.
I ate lunch alone and Alexander came to my table, worrying aloud that I was lonely.
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He begged his mother to let him buy the guitar. When she refused, reminding him that it was half of the month’s rent, he wept.
“How can we lessen everyone’s burden and give ourselves more time to work on what matters to us?”
“I found myself dwelling on these parts of Korean culture as a way to reconnect with my identity and also the memory of my mom.”