ABSTRACT
May 21, 1980. It was Buddha's Birthday, supposedly an auspicious day. I saw numerous lotus-shaped lamps and all manner of fully blossoming flowers as I drove along the Namhae Highway, heading to Kwangju. The radio was broadcasting something: a Miss Universe contest. If I looked around, it was simply impossible to believe that somewhere, not far away, there was bloodshed going on on a massive scale ...
