—But the instinct of a man is to fight off predators. Is Jatupon never tempted to take a knife and slit his brother’s throat?
—No, not for the most part, my dear. He loves his brother; and in some ways there is intense intimacy and pleasure involved in the novel act that he would hardly rid himself of despite the pain and humiliation that is involved. I explained that earlier. Were you sleeping when we discussed this issue?
There was nothing. There was movement while he sat in a city bus.
All elements had burst out of the Big bang. All things (even ideas) were conceived violently in movement. And so he moved, switching to busses only when the former ones parked and all passengers had to leave. He did not know where he was. He didn’t care. In one bus ride he suddenly became sentient to the feel of stiff paper in one of his pockets. He pulled it out and looked. It was his uncle’s name and address. That was no surprise. The bus was stalled in traffic. Riders of busses who were near their destination began oozing out of them like leaking oil. He realized that he was on a bus going on a street that he had traveled on earlier in the day.
“Ajarn, Do you know what street this is?” he asked a monk.
“Sukumvit” the monk said.
“Which soi are we passing?” asked Jatupon.
“Forties or fifties” said the monk. “I really don’t know.”
Jatupon looked at the sheet of paper. It read, soi 51 Sukumvit Road. He got out and ten minutes later he was standing at the wall of the opulent mansion that Kazem had stood at. He didn’t stay long. He needed to go to the bathroom. He didn’t want to wet his pants and he didn’t think that being a distant relative with a hangover and urine splattered pants would be very impressive to the senator. In a bathroom at a KFC he looked at his face. It was of a dark Laotian or Khmer. He was from a family with the last name of Biadklang from the North. His face was as dark as the soil. He looked into the mirror. Just with the amount of light, darkness, or expression one appeared like a totally different person from one moment to the next.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked the reflection in the mirror.