Ramblings of a I

Pop culture spreads through Bangkok like an overly aggressive cancer so that even the homeless wear stylised Che Guevara t-shirts. Every brand is fake and no ones sees a difference, the elitism gone if no one can afford the real thing. The cat fish tackle each others slimy bodies on the Chao Phraya, fighting for the tourist bread that will eventually kill them. Wheel barrows and forklifts sun themselves on the banks, in reminder of a city under constant construction as the dilapidated buildings and people fight for a place next to the shiny new. The houses eventually sink or float, and the wheel of time keeps turning either way. Kimono dragons can still be found eating of meat in the cities only park, but all beauty here is man-made. It comes in the form of skies lined in washing and flaking paint on concrete houses. And the yellow smog that blankets each rising sun somehow makes the city all the more beautiful. Even though you can't see the sky, You can see buddha, and the pink taxi's, and the tattoo parlours.