p.m.

chiang mai at night is another world. when the streets empty of proper daytime thais, the cockroaches and packs of dogs and filth rise to the surface. the policemen stand at one corner of the block while the prostitutes trick on the other. a woman in a surgical mask crouches beside a bag of rubbish, rummaging for things to add to the load on her scooter. it’s a good time to walk under street lights, to watch your feet and your back. the cockroaches prance amber in the light, inches from the gutters, while the stray dogs lounge in gateways, tearing through trash, shitting on the brick sidewalks, barking ferociously at passersby and growling each other down. the hookers wait for rich, older farang men, who proudly walk with one on each arm on the way to their hotel. one man was even being wheeled in his wheelchair by a hooker. the police men are more concerned with unhelmeted motorcyclists running red lights than they are the sex trade. mosquitoes swarm like b-52’s, leaving exposed ankles and forearms stinging and unbearable. the moon shines directly overhead with our proximity to the equator, and those stars that can be seen in the city twinkle.