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Post by Dave Besseling on Jul 9, 2007 16:36:33 GMT -5
GMT + 7 Asia Cambodia Siem Reap 13 22 00 N 103 51 00 E . SIEM REAP . Meander through the Angkor stoned out of my gourd. d**n that happy pizza, the blameless menu said only “herb” and no more. No sneaky (hood)winks or knowing nods at all. Respite as likely as Arabica snooze or finding gum on my shoes in Singapore. . At the Bayon there really is someone watching you. It’s not just the fear. Beatific and knowing smiles cardinally saluting a lost cosmology, an autochthonous secret lifting every set of ponderous cheeks upward as they grin at you from around every corner. . Hackneyed new-wave daguerreotypes snap idyll and light with the Hindu-come-Buddhist priapse in the back. Don’t crowd, don’t fight, you’ll all get a turn. The babels spark catchphrase and I turn to invidious conjecture for my own amusement. That shuts them up. Silence is just so much better. The doe eyes scatter. That’s that I guess. Over the moat and the jungle I watch the sun; hazy, it unhurriedly sets. . . Walking on the rainy side of the dusty road, pidgin patois whistles algorithm through refractive wine glasses and birds chirp, hatched from the yeast coves in resonant crusty bread rolls, incubated in pressed white cloth.
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Post by Bobby Slais on Jul 12, 2007 8:44:17 GMT -5
Love the opening...
"Meander through the Angkor stoned out of my gourd. d**n that happy pizza, the blameless menu said only “herb” and no more. "
Then the remainder, follows this path very well. Excellent read.
Enjoying getting to know you through your excellent pen.
Smiles! Bobby
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