Rarely do people realize they are oppressed. From outward appearances, you can still smile, laugh, cry, dance, have fun in North Korea, and perhaps that's all that matters. But the moment you disagree with those in charge does the notion of freedom suddenly become very real. Song Seul-ki is a cautious man, for he is enlightened with knowledge of an outside world so different from his own. Whereas westerners can take their family to theme parks, he and his family can be suddenly forced to watch brutal public executions. Whereas westerners can enjoy privacy from their neighbors, his neighbors are trained to keep tabs and accuse each other for the sake of societal improvement. Whereas diversity of thought was praised in the West, deviations in thinking are enough to get you killed by the regime.

Seul-ki's father had friends who traveled to China frequently. These friends talked of capitalism, democracy, and religion. Song Seul-ki's family was catholic ever since the days of his grandfather, but when the soviets occupied North Korea and the socialist regime was established, his grandfather decided to back the ruling party very early on, and was thus rewarded with tolerance. The family held on to this catholic identity like a badge, with a vague sense that it was important to hold onto it, even though it held no place in their lives.

When in 1988 the Korean catholic association was established and public religion reinstated, Song Seul-ki had the privilege of attending state-approved services at the cathedral in the capital as a young man in college. He graduated university and returned to his small hometown in an industrial region close to the northern border with China, soon establishing himself as a music teacher for violin. He married a piano teacher and daughter of a family friend, Han Da-som - another fellow catholic. They had their first child, Ha-neul, and even baptized her. They managed to have a home all for themselves, albeit without running water and electricity. They even had a car - an unheard of luxury - though it too was a bit run down. Overall, they had good connections and were better off than the majority of the population, who instead struggled to find food for the next day and even decent shelter. Nothing seemed out of place for the Song family, except for a growing fascination with all things foreign.

All the stories and gossip they overheard in their youth by their parents' friends - sojourning North Korean diplomats and tradesmen - intrigued them both. They obtained all sorts of smuggled goods over the years: images of America, Europe, South Korea, books, newspapers, even magazines disguised variously as blueprints, manuals for factory machinery, and wrapping paper for soviet glassware. Such things painted a picture in their minds of a decadent, selfish, but ultimately apathetic West more interested in pop music than in toppling the regime in Pyongyang. Something wasn't adding up. And so when Seul-ki and Da-som's friends became the diplomats and the tradesmen, they too in turn started to ask for smuggled goods - bibles, the writings of the Pope, the catechism, rosaries.