Bombs of Cowardice
A bomb. Just enough the destroy the delicate balance of one of the most eclectic cities in the whole world. Bangkok. A city that I love as much as life. A city that cuddled me, slapped me, fucked me and then caressed me again. My teacher and my mistress. No, there’s nothing even distantly comparable to the city in the whole world. The warmest mum with an heart of eternit and breasts you’d dream to die on.
This night I couldn’t sleep. Too many emotions. Adrenaline. Sorrow. Curiosity for the developments. Whatever.
At 3 am I went downstairs. In the streets. I always do, lately. I can’t sleep. I even bought a membership card for a 24 hr gym, and very often I go working out around this time. It’s cool outside and there’s nobody training, and I’m usually totally awake and very energetic at that time.
This time though the streets were empty. And dark. It felt weird. I felt weird. I drove down to the first 7-11 to buy something to eat. The young guys working there know me because I’m the farang with the odd schedule that always buys half the store for breakfast at the most unaccettable time. This night nobody wanted to laugh. There was silence, instead. The floor had been just cleaned and was still wet. I had the sensation that everything was bleeding.
And then the social network. The people. My thai friends. Each of them having a thought for the country, each of them saluting the very unlucky persons that were close to the Erawan Shrine at the wrong moment.
“Thailand stay strong” penetrates until under my skin. This country so full of contraddictions nonetheless so loved by its inhabitants, Thais, foreigners. Whoever.
There’s nothing but a certain lack of education behind an action like this. There’s just the cowardice of people not capable to comprehend the aesthetics of this country and especially of its capital. And their arrogance to behave as an arbitrary God who can decide how many lives an idea, whichever it’d be, is worth.
Su su Thailand. Unceasingly with you.