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In the early summer of 1974 when I was 32 years of age
I flew to the Philippines on a plant construction project

<It was on a secret exigent business for 3 days>

With a man
I had a chance to enjoy lunch at a high grade restaurant in Manila

<A figure of a very beautiful Spanish waitress
wearing white uniform and stockings are still vivid in my mind>

Listening to him
I wondered if he was really
Such a big man

"I thought if I don't shake hands with Marcos
This country will become a mess
Facing this reality
I set out for Marakanian palace by myself
When I entered the palace
Hundreds of guns were targeted me and I knew
As I walked forward
The sights of the guns moved with me
Thinking when Markos swung his hand down
I felt fearful, but frankly speaking, I was never scared"

I was just listening to his unexpected conversation in a plain manner
Which was far from anything more than a heroic episode for him

After more than quarter of a century has passed
I often wear a wing collard safari shirt
I recall that he was introduced as a king of Moslem to me
And I definitely recollect the fact

He was
A big man with a clean cut face, stout build
Wearing a wing collard safari style shirt
A straightforward man of 60's