Midnight in Bangkok

He staggers through the teeming crowd, drunk but thankful to be out in the open. The Cage aux Folles had been a mistake. He had been repulsed by the clichéd floorshow, a can-can performed by look-alike dancers. Boy, girl, it was impossible to tell, but the hungry-eyed tourists ate them up. The real action was at the dimly-lit tables, in the curtained recesses, upstairs. Now, out on the street, hawkers, whores, everyone is selling something. He pauses to look through a brightly illuminated window; inside, a macabre line of fowl, and through a gap, a pair of knowing black eyes.

Image from Ursula’s Weekly Wanders. For other writing inspired by this image, visit Magpie Tales.