Sepuluh. The Boat and the Brothel
We unfolded the map for crossings into Thailand, spread it across the table in the center of the dorm and held up the guidebook to see how it would match.
สà¸à¸‡. Rubies and Rucksacks
A well-dressed man in a formal gray suit came up to me to ask where I was from. I was standing in Sanam Luang park in front of the Grand Palace when he approached, and he had a generous smile, was fluent in English. It was my third day in Bangkok and up until then I had been alone.
Lapan. Escape to Singapore
I arrived in Singapore after being burnt in Jakarta. And I had been told how dangerous it was but after six months of travel through already dubious locations I had become complacent. The late-night bus from Bandung was just pulling into Kalideres. A short trip and I had the whole bench, rucksack above, daypack below. Normally I would have used the daypack as a pillow, but the bench was wooden and not cushioned. It could only seat two and it was not possible to lie across it. Still, this time I was not thinking.
Hai mươi tám. The Blind Rickshaw Driver
My rickshaw driver was unable to see clearly, was continually adjusting his ill fitting glasses, and with our near accidents on the traffic roundabouts, I suspected he was half blind. But every day he was there to pull me through dusty, noisy back alleys to the market for a breakfast of yellow mangoes. He was my go-to for all the sights around Saigon.
ဆယ့်လေး. Reporting from Rangoon Part 2
All around the walls hung heavy sequined tapestries. Scenes of death, love, of the battle; of evil and good; of the demons and the heroes of the Ramakien, all portrayed in relief. Rich gold embossed details on coarse brown fabric. A Burmese man sat at a table tuning a receiver to the World Service.
ဆယ့်သုံး. Reporting from Rangoon Part 1
Dressed in faded denims, he wandered past bottles wrapped in shining glittered paper for the connoisseurs of fine liquors. His shirt was stained and punctured with wear. Jeans stretched, they hung loosely around his buttocks and were frayed at the ankles. Sweat gathered in black shavings where the plastic straps of his thongs rubbed his toes. And he shuffled around the aisles, parted the hair away from his eyes and stared along the display for the right whisky.
ยี่สิบเจ็ด. A Blossom in the House
And the blossoms swung gently descending, gently suspended and gently falling through the air until they slid to a halt on the floor, each laid open and silently breathing.
สิบสà¸à¸‡. Our Selfish War Part 2
A Thai soldier adjusts his steel-rimmed sunglasses. He stands legs astride, feels the tension in his thighs, holds the gun from the hip. He raises a bottle of whisky to his lips, eats glass he does and watches old American war movies. Likes to sprinkle bullets in the air when he's alone, and when he's not he fucks with boots on. She can see her face in the shine.
สิบเà¸à¹‡à¸”. Our Selfish War Part 1
To the left, the broken dam had caused the valley flood… The water chased the road around each curve, disappeared behind cleared out mounds of mud then came back to swamp them in a pall of grey mist. Black trees stuck out leafless and drowning, isolated stick creatures stretched out as frozen cracks on the surface. Wooden huts sat like fat shining slugs on gnarled logs in the water, some huddled close, linked with rotting planks, while others were pushed away from the pack, as if they had quietly lost their mooring and had absent-mindedly floated away.