Walking on, morose as the abyss of his subconscious disgorged like
a geyser, he thought of his boyhood in school satiated in learning.
There had indeed been such a boyhood in such a time brief as a few days
of Bangkok winter that makes homeless dogs and cats shiver before
temple walls when fortunate enough to wander into such an animal
sanctuary. Learning had been a series of refreshing stimuli slapping
up against him like a cool breeze. It had stimulated him and had
planted in him an appetite. It was then taken away from him leaving
only the wistfulness and the barren days squirming around like noodles
in pork soup. At the aunt's insistence his mother and father had paid
for him to go to a poor Buddhist school run by the monks. The monks had
been impressed by his academic cleverness, and soon, at their
persuasion, his parents had paid for him to attend special classes as
well. During those three years he had only worked in the summers; and
the last of those summers was the end to a consistent time of academic
learning. They rented him off to pick coconuts from a woman's orchard
and didn't see much point in dismissing the added revenue. The aunt,
with her excess of money, intervened with special tutors and
home-school teachers. It lasted for a time until she became bored with
overseeing it.

During the trip here an accident had occurred on the highway from
Ayuttaya to Bangkok and the congestion made irascible beings used to
the quick weltering motion of freedom trapped in their own thoughts.
Horns, at that time sounded from all directions and Kumpee, the fetid
one, at times irascibly chewed the fetid fruit called durian or slowly
slurped from the beer can in his hands allowing the liquid in his mouth
to spread and re-spread before swallowing. He wanted to step out of
the car and punch someone but instead he bit into the heart of the
durian. When the girlfriend's car gained enough freedom to interweave