Streets of Bangkok, dusty beyond belief, with the acidic foul smog created by thousands of moving vehicles and impatient drivers. Stifling, this horrible urban machinery, a twisted form of necessity for development.
Bangkok, the pride and joy of modern Thailand, a city filled with glory, history, revolution and bloodshed.
Times have changed, governments and military coups have appeared and imploded, this horrid legacy of a growing population that seeks to bend the region with its influence and yet maintain the cultural uniqueness.
Of all, the shaping of a nation, or government, is determined by the marginalized and poor, whether those of Thai origins or refugee; matters not, regardless… Life is shaped by hardship and perseverance. The urban poor walk the streets, uncountable, too numerous for a sane mind to digest.
My feet, cracked and dry. Thin sheet of dust, dirt and sweat makes my tired face seem ghastly. I grow weary, this body seems to have reached the limit.
I’m suddenly surrounded by a dozen street kids, from the nearby canal-slum community, my steps grow rapid on the uneven ground. I seek to see what these young eyes have seen many times before. The sunset, that burning orb that descends with an infinite lethargic dip. A sunset, me, under the mighty bridge, waiting for that breeze to sooth my limbs and remind me that I am not finished with this journey.