Half the world in Half a T-shirt

Khao Sahn Road, Bangkok, Thailand. Dusky, musky, intriguing, full of the smells of the east and a mystery western folk will never know. Despite everything I‘ve heard, I find the place friendly, warm and inviting.
I arrived in summer and chose to walk along the sidewalk in the early hours of the evening.
I pass food stalls, deserted nightclubs, desolate-looking old women selling t-shirts emblazoned with phrases such as ‘me love you long time Bangkok’, their faces lined with the effort of keeping a straight back, eyes peering suspiciously through the setting sunlight.
I round a corner and catch a glimpse of a solitary ladyboy, the local term for a transgendered woman. I am curious; I stop and very carefully try to catch a glimpse without appearing to gawk. She is beautiful, high cheekbones come to rest under porcelain skin, a tight green dress designed to give off a whiff of sex and flesh clings to engineered curves. Yet a highly strung feeling of uncomfortableness seems to seep from her concealed pores, her handbag hangs awkwardly off a masculine shoulder and she holds it close to her thin body as her eyes flit about her. An elderly American man walks by and she leaps into action, pouting and smiling, batting her lashes. He looks at her, gives her a cursory glance then shakes his head. She deflates.
Suddenly she catches me looking at her and her eyes flash with embarrassment, anger, defiance and pride. I smile shyly at her and after a second she smiles back too. She breathes out, pretence gone. Our eyes meet for a split second, before another prospect appears and she stirs herself back into action, strutting away into shadows; long fingers of moonlight catching the glitter on her cheek.