Playing with fire

Ten Loy Krathongs down the road, I would say the key is not to get distracted by the firecrackers that make you feel like you’re stuck in Beirut under siege, the insane traffic jams, and the antics of youngsters more than slightly under the influence.

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There are all those serene spots down by the river, a few miles out, in the temple yards, looking into the fire, like our ancestors for tens of thousands of years, mesmerised, warmed, comforted, free of fear from the looming darkness. The quiet of the rivers, letting go of all sorrows. Then the pounding drums and bells and the joy of living, dancing, forgetting.

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And then, as an outsider, you can also safely choose to hate it all. No obligations, no deeply rooted memories. You are free to relate to the festival.

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Still so difficult to choose life. Being negative is so much easier. It’s been difficult here without my holidays and festival routines. In this city here, every day is the same. People too busy with day to day survival. For me, getting very bleak. I need the fire. The flowers, drums, dragons, anything to make a day different from any other day.

 

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