Amsterdam,
Finally, the dark and lonely days of X-mas are gone and over with, walking around snowy streets nearly devoid of people reminding me the harsh way of my self-chosen life of solitute around these so-called Holy Days.
The Noordermarket on each monday morning is clamoring with activity, people go to and fro chatting gayly under a nice winter sun. I hear the languages of the world, tourists checking out free city maps are the norm, not all that strange considering the Anne Frank House is just around the corner.
My mind is as always these days on my upcoming trip to King Bhumipol`s Asian realm, erotic images of Asian beauties trying to work there way to my conscious mind, battling vainly with the hordes of ravages Hot Momma faces, faces from the past that haunt me into the present, refusing vehemently to trun themselves into sexy dream world play mates, instead reminding me of their plight, the swearing eye and bad tooth, the baby back home in the Northern impoverished Isan provinces, the hopes they had and the drug and alcohol crazed life that came out of it...
I wonder where they are nowadays, institutionalised in a local Wad? Not much left there in the brain of a Hot Momma on a early pension, cared for by the monks and living on scraps left behind by the villagers - their Karma will survive another day...
My thoughts trail on and on hardly noticing the worl around me...I did see the mysterious multi-colores eyes of a Muslim lady, veiled and all that, passing by. I presume she can NO WAY IN MUSLIM HELL imagine what life is like for her Thai contemporaries.
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