Monday morning

It's a forgettable wet morning in Bangkok. I cannot sleep. At home I would toss and turn until dreams eventually found me but here I decide to go for a stroll; because I can. Disfigured cats and dogs trawl the sticky ground tirelessly attempting to escape the rain, cowering in the many nooks and crannies of the ramshackle streets. I light a cigarette, my only companion at this strange hour, and a fine friend at that. Drunken tourists amble about aimlessly, vigourless by the most part. I tread down a narrow back alley. It resembles the behind-the-scenes of an elaborate Hollywood set; the set being the popular Kaosan road. Workers bustle with faces as grey as the morning sky, simulteaneously closing down production and preparing for another labourious day. They dont think much of the tourists or there activities I dont think, although some are genuinely friendly when they take a shine to you. We seemingly lack the age old discipline and self control of this ancient people, or atleast I do, running about like a ten year old with beer running down my chin. In fairness I'm pretty sensible this moring. I order an American breakfast and listen to the broken conversations of people who only met a few hours previous. My sleeping pattern is yet to recover from the long flight, not that its military at the best of times. Hopefully I'll grab a few hours some time soon, before I rejoin the cut and thrust of the city. I could always just sit here and keep watching though.