And so my waking found its end, only to be found amongst the dirtiest selves, my friend...

Wake up, smell the coffee (or lack thereof), grab some appropriate pants and walk out into the gloomy corridor... slide down the same staircase that welcomes you every single day with a promise of nothingness and a smell of reddy orange to it.

Stride along the staff offices and wave a sleepy hi to the people behind the screens (kinda reminding you of that Orwell scene... but you swiftly blow the bubble-thought away).

Go out the door, careful not to lay a single step on the threshold (keeps up the spirits... literally speaking) and add an extra layer to your barefoot soles... solely stabilizing the lower part of your body-canvas that drags along the very bottom of your soul.
Get 'em flipflops on (those blue rubber bastards that bear tiny bits of your footy personality, they are in fact falling apart day by day).

Now you're out on the street, take a few more steps and turn 30 degrees to the right to give a subtle nod to the guard. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
Say goodbye to the TEFL school building: three stories to an old novelistic compound of degrading grays and corinthian columnata (random architecture indeed, for a place like this).
Geckos slither from corner to corner and chase after bugs with an ethereal, inconspicuous air, melting away into the scenery as you move along. Mimesis... biology drives you nuts.

The ground has changed alright, sandy-wet little rocks erode into smaller and smaller pieces as you hear the crushing sounds that your shoes emit whenever applying a downward force upon them (do they complain whatsoever? fancy them having dreams of shrinking, I do sometimes).

You're humming that ol' song that's been superglued to your brain since last Saturday, but you don't mind. It's become the soundtrack of your life here in the land of the unforgiving (or was it unforgetting?) elephant people: Thailand.

"She wants to know, does everyone feel this way... when it rains in Asia..."

The ocean faces your left side as you turn to your right, freeing yourself from the spacially-psychological-sandwiching of various laundry shops, small restaurants and motorbike-renting spots on both sides of the narrow highway taking you to godknowswhere if you dare exploring more than what's legal (whatever that means).

You dodge several maniacal motorbike-drivers (these being 7-8 year olds or in better cases old women petting their dogs and not watching the road! casually). Your hear the doppler fading of the goose-like honking the locals tend to give to any foreign looking pedestrian, as you stare into the unusual writings of the several signs that decorate some of the adjacent shops. You have absolutely no idea of what those strange symbols mean, perhaps they say something like "foreign people suck". Guess you'll have to learn Thai to find out next chapter.

The palm trees oscillate from side to side as if dancing to the singing of the tidal waves, the same ones that incessantly brush the shoreline's long hair... You suddenly feel like running, so you grab hold of your headphones, place each ear piece on the corresponding orifice and begin to quicken your pace.

You feel the air thrust itself against the freckles on your face, as if trying to rub them off the very skin they've been drawn in (but they're fastened strong enough). A dog barks and howls as you pass by, but you pay no attention (even though the creep has already got on all 4's in a menacing gesture). You run past and clear the sweat off your forehead.

There goes the looney man with a bad arm that often enough pretends he is being crushed by one of those boats lying on one side of the road... He waves at you, and so does the sea at the other end... Waving away you proceed.

You enter the woody opening opposite to the shoreline that invites you in with a sign that says "forest trial" (literally so) and so a trial it is; treading through that trail of course.

Your feet gather up heat while the trees stare at your shady silhouette, never again to be seen on that exact moment in time.
The song that encloses the illuminated the setting is by the Friendly Fires (strangely adhoc) and your mood is lifted up a single notch; the perfect measure for a power jog around the huge block.

The sun waves goodbye as well, peacefully drowning into the horizon and giving way to the darkness that adds that extra mellow feel-flavour to the wrappings of each and every single day.


And this was supposed to be just an average walkabout. It never fucking is...