I jumped up and pulled the call cord on the ratty old bus from Chatuchak to Banglamphu. I'd just spotted my stop.
The driver looked quizzically at me, probably wondering if I'd made a mistake.
I hadn't. I was here to see the zebra shrine.
I went over in my zebra t-shirt to pay my respects. An old woman was at the shrine—I couldn't tell if she was homeless and slept nearby or if she was the caretaker. Maybe both. She looked at me in my zebra shirt taking photos of the zebra shrine and she howled with laughter. She called two men over, men who wear lazily sitting by a canal.
She pointed at my shirt and laughed and pointed at the zebras. I laughed too. Then she kissed my hand and kissed it again.
I thought this was all quite hilariou, but nevertheless, I was glad when she stopped.
The driver looked quizzically at me, probably wondering if I'd made a mistake.
I hadn't. I was here to see the zebra shrine.
I went over in my zebra t-shirt to pay my respects. An old woman was at the shrine—I couldn't tell if she was homeless and slept nearby or if she was the caretaker. Maybe both. She looked at me in my zebra shirt taking photos of the zebra shrine and she howled with laughter. She called two men over, men who wear lazily sitting by a canal.
She pointed at my shirt and laughed and pointed at the zebras. I laughed too. Then she kissed my hand and kissed it again.
I thought this was all quite hilariou, but nevertheless, I was glad when she stopped.
1 comment:
I can see the appeal!
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