A sweet smelling aroma permeated the air. It was coming from a pertly baked surface. The occasion was unknown to me but naturally I was excited. My father carefully pulled out a knife and slit me a giant chunk of the cake. As I reached for the cake I could feel saliva gathering in my mouth. The java began to drip and my mouth continued to water. I smoothly stripe a piece of the cake and slid it in my mouth. I savored the judge of the warm chocolate. At this point I knew that nothing could possibly go wrong. Nothing could ruin this moment.
Nothing - except the try of a sweet cake going bitter.
I think up the day as if it were yesterday. The day that I felt my dreams had been burst forever. The day I realized that my life, from then on, would never be the same. This day was the life-changing moment in which my father had told me that my family was moving to Seoul, Korea.
I was only eight years old at the time, and the world of losing my beloved friends to a factor as menial as distance frightened me. It took me many long hours to digest the tuition I had been given.
I tried to be optimistic at first, but found that the only idea that might interrupt the situation was to think of how I would get to experience my produce?s Korean culture firsthand. Even optimism could not surrender me. To think of having to go to a new land which, at this time I ignorantly thought of as a third world country, was severe. I was not yet determine to start my life anew. To me, the commute to Korea was like being impel out of an airplane...
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