A look

[jagoturner]

Wrapped up to the breast in a pakhamaa she washed herself. Sluicing her body with clear water that splashed on already glistening skin. Water that trickled refreshingly into the large blue plastic bowl. Her black black hair hung still streams moving through its velvet flow. Squeezing the like a sponge cloudy white liquid slipped through the gaps in her fingers coursing down the back of her hand and her arm. Her pakhamaa came loose and she swiftly retied it dampening the patterned fabric so dark patches of liquid enlarged like ink on blotting paper. And where the fabric was wet it clung to her skin.

 

The previous night I?d been in Patpong with friends. In Patpong where women no less beautiful than this danced nakedly through the night. Yet there was something about this simple daily act of washing that held me hypnotised.

 

She threw back her hair and it seemed to lash the bare skin of her shoulders. Then her eyes caught me. I almost looked away but I didn?t. And she didn?t either. She wasn?t shy. She held me in her eyes for a few moments in a look that neither played with me or rejected me. It was the look with which a cat who has never seen you before can hold you in. It was a look with no reason, no desire and no fear. A look whose only quality was beauty. For a fraction of a second this look changed and a smile darted across her face. Someone called to her from inside. She lost her interest in me to address the speaker... Then she went inside and she was gone.

 

It?s funny the shit you remember.

 

[journey21]

I am amazed that you have received no response as of yet. I found your vignette evocative and moving. Those brief moments of intimacy are precious and if you are not ready to catch them, they pass so quickly!

 

Thanks for catching this one and sharing it.....

[jagoturner]

Kind of you to say so.

 

I didn't expect much response to be honest.

 

A moment flashes into your mind and you hope that by writing it down it will strike something, maybe a similar memory, in someone else.

 

Many of the experiences written about or expressed here tend to be of life lived to the maximum but I find the true reason I carry on thinking about Bangkok even while I am not lies entirely in the gaps - the subtle moments that don't make that much sense but which stick with you.

 

[Searcher]

Whenever I see your byline, I know I'm going to read something special. You have the gift. Thanks for sharing it.

Searcher

 

[jagoturner]

It's my pleasure... And it always gives the day a lift when I know someone has enjoyed something I've written. It's why I keep doing pieces and posting them here so thanks.

[Guest]

You raise an interesting point, that I did not really consider before, often I will read a story here that touches me in some way, either as a slice of life, maybe a few laughs, or to learn something new, I rarely give the author the praise they so richly deserve for taking the time and effort to post it here.

 

 

I am going to change that

 

I love your stories by the way, thanks :applause: :applause:

[jagoturner]

Thanks... I should take a cue from this... I nearly always let the best reports here pass by without a comment.

 

Did I say "nearly" always ?

 

If I see something good here I tend to think "wow... That's great...Right on the money... Somebody else is bound to say something..." Then I put the kettle on.

[chilli13]

me too

[Kiwi]

True to see and true for all.

 

How many of us have at some stage experienced this...and it passes.And yet it lingers,and at some time,we desire it and,finally make the moves to try again.

 

I passed through Bangkok one far distant summer.The heavy humidity and those long nights caught me on the long walk along Sukhumvit.I passed an open Bar ( the third or so ) and sat at one and enjoyed a cold Heinekin.The bar viewed the entrance to Nana Plaza ... the girls passing held my interest.

 

She sat at the far table and served a Falang,he was entranced with her.I glanced back every few minutes...and finally our eyes met.It took some time until the beery Falang parted company with her.Over to the table she came.

 

Shared her time over the next week.

We became friends ( as one can there ).

 

I left and promised to share letters.

I did.

The years came and went.

I returned.........I looked and looked.

 

I never saw her again.

However I think of her now and again.

And when I return to Bangkok ... I enjoy her past presence.

 

Deep in the Travel Case her photo remains.

 

Kiwi.

[jagoturner]

Beautifully put.

 

Sad and true and beautiful.

 

It is this sort of connection, so hard to explain, so easy to dismiss, that holds me in Bangkok on some part of my mind if not in body.

 

Each moment has its own time but it's impossible not to find yourself reliving those moments that had nothing to do with the feeding of desires or baht. Moments with no half baked promises of marriage. Meetings with no ulterior motive. Just a talk. Or a look. Or that beautiful moment when you look in her eyes and realise she is like you and you are like her, you both know it, all the rest is bollocks and you gently laugh at the place you have found yourselves in.