I was 55 at the funeral of Frank. He had died between the borders. Rolf the bank-robber and I had carried him dead from Cambodia to Thailand. He was cremated behind Pattaya Tai. Rolf and I celebrated his passing on Soi 6.
Beer and sex and a little drugs.
I spotted Mam at a distance.
She had seen me many times before.
She thought me different.
In truth I was only a farang and I proved this time after time, especially at the dinner table
No fried chicken feet for me.
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