others who gave them fresh insight into life or a respite for escaping
it, these people were dismissed when that resource was exhausted.
Still he wasn't all that fond of them so the issue did not really
matter all that much. He tried to smile at them but he could not. He
was feeling sick to his stomach and their faces sometimes spun around
in an erratic orbit.
It was like feeling the rush of air and dizzying changes of
streets and buildings from the open portals of an old doorless bus that
cast its shadow onto a bridge connecting Pinklao street to the area
around the Grand Palace--how palpitating was this glue and amphetamine
trip. At times it was a stronger feeling of thrust and omnipotent
dominion like a surfer who could easily be plummeted by the waves he
was riding. The waves, however, were verdant and edible. It was
verdant the way nature at times looked like a green-berry cheesecake,
and bovine, he wanted to eat it.
Seated under the stairwell of steps doing nothing in particular,
he at times took out his pocket knife and engraved a puppet man driven
on forcefully by its master to the pleasure and frenzy of rape,
depositing its seeds in every possible hole (fertile or fallow). This
alone was his only conscious achievement that day in a drug induced but
sobering mind where subconscious images usurped their rational rulers.
Careful not to look threatening with a knife in his hands, he timidly
scraped out a master controlling the puppet man depositing himself in
that meek lowly being.



Chapter 6

"Nawin!" Porn whiningly bantered as she confiscated his