the local


art by deger bakir

You had not spoken to anyone in weeks. Nothing of any consequence beyond the polite thank you, keep the change, I’d like a cappuccino please. These interactions were your only connection to the world, the only proof you still existed, so you became an enthusiastic customer, passenger, pedestrian. At the cafe you frequented, you learned the names of the owners and the staff. The newspaper vendor and his dog at the end of your soi grew fond of you (the dog wasn’t allowed fat but you slipped it ham as you leaned over for the paper). When someone asked for directions, you replied with a ferocity, and even escorted the lost to a bus or taxi stand. Those you assisted walked away entranced, marvelling at the good-natured people of this city.

About listentothebabe

writing is the teeth that gnaw on my bones.


  1. jillianmrks

    So much in this piece resonates…

    Liked by 1 person

  2. A lot of thoughts in this short write! Well done!

    Liked by 2 people

  3. aaaaaahhhh! love this.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Like I’ve said before: I love the illustrations you use in your posts.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. This week I learned I finally leaned what “soi” meant. I imagine we probably rode past you in a tuk-tuk at some point.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I missed this one somehow. I love it, the way the narrator answers people who ask for directions.


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