LONG AGO IN Korea, a boy lived with his mother in a village nestled between thickly wooded mountains. The boy loved to explore the valley and care for his favorite ox, but most of all he loved to eat the dried fruit of the persimmon tree that grew in the garden. Soft and sweet, with a fragrance like honey, the little morsels in shades of cheerful orange were just right after a day outdoors.
One afternoon, the boy hurried home for a bite to eat, the taste of dried persimmons already on his tongue. He
