I see Bangkok through your eyes, and I wonder what’s happened in these two years since I’ve returned. I miss the way the streets smelled. Some called it rotting, and I am forced to ask myself what smells we assume ourselves to have. Perhaps, all of us here have found a place to live that’s so cold, all of our smells drop off of us in little ice cycles; hitting the ground and smashing to bits.

I see the rivers through your eyes, and the sweat on your foreheads and I wonder if you know how very lucky you are. Do you take it all in, every breath of every mile upon that river? The little boats that carry you from island to island, do you wonder about their ability to go? It took me ages just to let go, to let the spray hit my face. How your billions of citizens will assume to presume that they will make it across the water to grab their wares and take them back again. To see those waves and to somehow make a dollar to feed each other is still a mystery to me.

I am forced to wonder how you think, and how you feel. Because I am jumping to broad, ridiculous conclusions about the whole of everything.

I am something else.