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Memories … memories… engraved on the mind like fingerprints imprinted on a page. Each page makes the book of life.
No one else in the world has fingerprints exactly like another person. The fingertips have many tiny lines.
These lines make patterns of loops and circles, and each finger has a different design. Childhood memories are smudges of chubby fingers, in yellow and red paint.
Memories are coiled up like the lines on fingertips, and as one looks back, they unravel. Some experiences run smoothly out of the brain box, but others run slowly and stumble out.
S.E. Asia , December 1999.
Hong Kong, Thailand, Singapore, and Malaysia.
The beginning of this coil, starts at Hong Kong, the city of life. White faces, pale like porcelain dolls. Emotionless but alive. The ambiance is vibrant, city lights blinking, smoke and traffic. Noise. This city never sleeps. But the people are in the wrong city, it is pulsating and they are not. They are like components of a computer, working, sleeping, eating – just exsisting.
3 days were spent at Hong Kong, and its every bit the city that’s seen on TV and the city that its expected to be. Millions of Jackie Chan’s and Lucy Lui’s , trendy, cell phone in hand, walking the streets, with an air of exclusivity, and no smiles.
The next stop, Thailand. A huge country that’s very humid and hot. But after the Matrix world of Hong Kong, Pattaya, 2 hours away from Bangkok, seemed a reasonable place to visit.
On our way there, I noticed how tropical the area started to look. Palm trees peeped out, and sunshine hid through the trees, escaping in the gaps to produce beams of golden light.
Our hotel, overlooked the bay. They was no beach, just land and then sea. The gentle splish splash of the water, calmed everything even the raging sun. Our hotel was at the end of a long cobble street, that had little shops on either side. The wind blew problems, and everything associated with the city away, and it brought a laid back aroma to this amazing little town. Most people commute with motorbikes, care-free and cheerful. The people, are so hospitable and friendly, filled with joy to the brim, they radiate love and happiness. What a contrast to the people in Hong Kong.
I imaged Pattaya with a huge rainbow over it. The atmosphere sparks magnificently and melts the soul.
In the night, the full moon looks down, at this little, paradise. A little band plays cheesy love songs, all very romantic. And further down the street, a perfume that smells of the west, and Thai, has blown onto the streets. Loud pop music blares from bars, that look straight out of “Coyote Ugly”. Shops, all opened, selling every designer label imaginable, except that its fake, fill the corners. On the left, mucho men with droplets of sweat, surrounding by spectators that are cheering for their favourite Thai boxer. Oh so alive, what a buzz, this little town has transformed into. Ah… … what paradise, or so it seems.
We walk down a street, filled with the mouth-watering smell of all sorts of food. And then it catches my eye. A dozen crabs, ensnared on a black iron plate. They are suffocating to death. All of them move their little orangey red arms trying to salvage what life they can, slower……slower…and slower. The lady picks the one closest to her, and thrown it into the fire, so naturally and causally, not a moment of hesitance, or doubt in her eye.
“You want one, velly velly tasty” she says, and smiles. I walk away, the dry burning smell, throttles my throat, and a huge multi-layered ball grows in the pits of my tummy, and this was not the last time I’d feel it.
Further down the street, I start to notice the amount of European men they are, and how their surrounded by the Thai women. Young men, old men, buying drinks, flirting, glad to be away from their homes, from their families, and living like the rich men do, back home, they can afford to now, because everything is so cheap in their oriental paradise. One couple, walk down, right beside me. And the old, rather fat man, seems not to notice my stare. Beside him, walks a little baby rag doll, that has been forced to look like a mature Barbie. Silky black her falls on a tiny face, and beautiful eyes are circled with heavy black eyeliner. Red lips stand out, and clash with her over-done blue eye shadow. Her little 13 year old body is grasped by a short midnight blue, velvet dress.
I look into her eyes, and her innocence has been jerked out.
I wish she wasn’t his prostitute, I wish he’d chosen an older puppet. I wish. Oh how I wish...
The ball emerged again from my stomach.
Supper-food I hoped would take away the misery I had felt. The restaurant we chose was bustling with people. Dead seafood is displaced on ice, you choose what you want and they cook it for you on an open grill. Strolling through the isle, with not much of an appetite I noticed a 30 cm fish in a tank. The fish just fitted in the tank, and it couldn’t swim up or down or back or forth. It just had to be motionless, yet still remain a life. I imagined that if I was the fish, it would feel like being in a coffin and not being able to get out. The feeling scarred me.
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Melissa
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