take amazing risks

More Cambodians and Burmese own a cell phone than have a toilet.

Welcome to the entertainment capital of the world!

The science of imaginary solutions that regulate exceptions.

To do amazing things you have to take amazing risks.

Bolano: "he didn't believe in countries and the only borders he respected were: Borders of dreams - musty borders of love & indifference."

Borders of courage or fear - golden borders of ethics.

"To never be polite again." Camus on outrages we inflict.

Acting as a fundamental form of existence.

To be natural with a mask. My mask is eating my fAce.

The entire universe is a vast theatre.

"Black and white are the colors of photography." - Frank

happy language animal

Your nature is to be happy.

I am a needle. Words are the threads.

Metaphors. Neologism - (new word phrase)

Where are you from?

I am from the universe, said the blind man.

During the day I am a gravedigger. At night, a prostitute.

It is the endless story.

I am in the world but not of it. 

I am a lone wolf. Predator. Instinct.

A language animal. Meaningless.

illusion of truth and drama

The big general picture (floodlight)

The small specific picture (spotlight)

Sleeping alone is boring, said Sunflower, a blind masseuse in Kampot.

The blind man plays a flute.

His young son leads him through life.

Music guides their quest.

Mindfulness, breathe, ease god out.

On the meridian of time there is no injustice; there is only the poetry of motion creating the illusion of truth and drama.

Beatific Shy Lover

Masks hide the consciousness of fear.

Molecular structure.

Reconnected with a beatific shy lover on the edge of town after 17 dazed.

The dirt road is lined with salons, massage parlors brown hearts and shattered dreams.

Her thin gentleness is tempered by the fear of others,

the ugly fat one is disappointed in memory.

No one wants me.

Others eat vegetables.

She has a diamond implanted in a canine.

The two of them stay behind a curtain. Plywood walls.

They have an hour.

She is not impatient. They accept the implied unspoken gentle nature, the infrequent dressing.

All her clothes fit in a plastic box. The mattress is thinner than her. Two pillows.

Her cell phone and used phone cards litter a Boeing 747 used as a table.

O

She is 20+ and rail thin. He considered taking her away to the coast. Another poor girl will take her place. They never go. The coast is too far away.

The absurd human condition is illuminated in a nano-second.

Mandalay Mingalar Market Fire

To the west a dancing sun burned yellow-orange. It filled the sky shading orange and blue.

The rough dirt street paved in places by jutting stones was crowded with residents staring east.

A billowing black source cloud swirled high into gray wind whipped smoke. Spectators gawked, gasped, and yakked. Speculation, supposition, myth.

Down below, out of sight, out of mind, flames spread from rows of makeshift food zones near the west entrance of Mingalar Market.

A spark? A moment as charcoal embers flamed cloth and wood? An errant signature glowing slow and steady.

Near the narrow food area were fabric shops and plastic food in plastic bags – elements of combustible material.

Women with organic fruits and vegetable piled into mountains scattered screaming grabbed children heading for exits. Two children died of smoke inhalation.

Flames bolted into around and through wooden stalls filled with cloth.

Colors exhaled in the heat.

100 sewing machines glowed red.

Flames indulged their fantasy. Fruits and vegetables fizzled, cracked, exploded. Frenzy of fire.

Street 73 was packed with cell phone amateurs, beeping motorcycles, police cars, fire engines and ambulances all trying to get through…night fell, crashing into waves of volcanic billowing smoke floating north, gaining speed at higher elevations.

A full bone white moon witnessed the spectacle.

Water cannons extended from fire trucks directed streams of life over exterior stonewalls and shuttered shops into the center.

Red flames leaped, licking black clouds.

Firemen scrambled with hoses seeking more H20. Flashing emergency lights illuminated shifting crowds flashing strobes on phones.

White helmeted men yelled instructions to firemen. Sirens roared down streets looking for a source in a sewer drain.

The morning after – lines of police down the middle of 73^rd and adjacent streets. Squads of orange vested street cleaning women huddled in groups having tribal discussions.

Fire trucks lined the street blocking off the market.

Vested women hauled out bamboo baskets and lifted them to men in garbage trucks.

Gawkers lined streets.

Firemen rolled up frayed hoses – police cadets marched in formation.

Trucks with armed soldiers left the scene.

Gutted shops, debris, and memories danced near boys leaning against a fence staring at burned mattresses. Salvaged hair dryers on a sidewalk reflected puddles of water.

A medic in a white Red Cross helmet waited for no one.

Two tired firefighters lying on top of a truck closed their eyes.