Hunger I Endure for Life

Comfort. That consistent feeling of being in the village, taking whatever nature provides and the bounties of the sea. Fishermen coming out of their modest homes before sunrise, heading to the jetties where their boats await them. The cooling breeze with a strong taste of salt would be the element's way of greeting. After dawn, enjoying a simple meal worthy of a hungry Malaysian Minangkabau social worker, prepared by an elderly woman who's expert hands have cooked many meals in her life.

But I am not in the village, nor am I in Malaysia. Memories sweeping tonight, signs of being alone in my journey. 

I'm still in Bangkok, the urban chaos-infused metropolis where the stench of humidity blends with the diabolical smog. A shock to the senses, while the mind awakens to the painful fact that the enormous day will be filled with back-to-back traffic and an unstoppable wave of rushing people. Posters of candidates for the governor election decorate the street lampposts, a few grotesquely photoshopped to satisfy the vanities of an image-conscious society. 

I miss the comforts of a laid-lack village, the clear blue sky and life devoid of complexities. 

But then again, true to my nature, I am addicted to the ludicrous behaviors of Bangkok, I marvel at the struggles of the ordinary Thai and migrant worker, I bow to the Juggernaut of urban poverty. I can't leave just yet, there are many sights and sounds for me to devour. This ineluctable destiny, my inexhaustible appetite for change. 

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