Crickets sang to me from outside my window into my midnight bedroom, luring me to sleep against their rhythmic chorus.
Roosters woke me to roseate dawns.
Jasmine scented gardens hung heavy against the rising humidity.
Kanchanaburi. A place where life moves slowly.
Once steeped in darkness.
Ride the creaky rails.
On the infamous death railway.
Walk through the fields where thousands were thrown into early graves.
Immaculate rows, testament to the scars of the devastation that the Japanese Imperialist army brought.
Kanchanaburi is a place not really to see but a place to be.
I set my bags down for a night.
Then lost track of time.
People get stuck on the River Kwai.
The sleepy river seduces you.
The flowing waters. Sounds. Like pearls.
Beds your heart.
You’ll find your senses lost.
The dreamy land begs you to stay one more night.
To stay in a place where the skies are never sated of ruddy sunsets.
To take one more sunrise swim in it’s green waters.
In Kanchanaburi it’s too easy to laze through one day.
Before you realise the next day has sneakily approached.
You remember all the activities you promised that you’d do but didn’t.
With further reflection you recall you haven’t done anything at all.
Its not your fault. It’s really not.
The river’s easy rhythm draws you in.
Luring you into its laze.
Looks like you’ll just have to stay one more day…