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A short story
The Bangkok Sky-train, that repetition of great, grey megaliths of ferroconcrete looms above us.
All along the main roads, under the overhead railway above, small igloo tents and market stalls provide a carnival atmosphere to Bangkok. It’s like a giant school fete - except that people are getting killed – half a dozen shot and a couple of grenades lobbed-in to date.
Periodically, as we pass along the pedestrian thronged roads, closed to all but involved vehicles, we encounter flattop trucks mounted with huge video screens or deafening loud speakers.
A Short Story
"She’s put out a beer for me! That’s so thoughtful!"
He feels shamed, just when he was thinking she takes him for granted.
He’s been slaving away out here all morning in the sweltering heat, cutting-back this enormous bloody bougainvillea that she keeps nagging him about. It’s the Council's green waste pick-up tomorrow and he’s taken the day off, from the monotony of his daily commute, to a job that he has long since mastered, to get this done.
He’s bleeding where the thorns have torn at his shirtless torso. His sweat makes pink runnels in the grey dust that is thick on his office-pale skin. The scratches sting, as the salty rivulets reach them, and he’s not sure that he hasn’t had too much sun. He knows he’ll be sore in the office tomorrow.
Sometimes things that seem quite different are, when looked at more closely, related.