Lee asked himself what happened during the 37 minutes he was zoned out on the massage table?

He waited until Bai held onto him with both hands, joining their body rhythms together.

Had he kissed an angel?

Angels don’t kiss on the lips.

Their kisses meet at the center below their thoughts, unconscious, devoid of the here-and-now.

Had they?

Was that why he would not say out loud what had happened?

With an inner solar system to populate, Lee kept asking himself what he was doing here, now.

What was his subcultural training worth and how was the subculture to which he was barely attached important to the future?

The only way to get there was to get over or around the current stumbling block, commit himself to the future rather than the past, a past which gave him a comfortable bourgeois lifestyle that those in relative poverty might wish for.

Lee had always wanted more.

No one was going to give it to him so he just had to take it, leaving the armchair critics (especially the one in his thoughts) behind.

It is never too late to change, never too late to practice.