The faces blur past you like a river in flood. Somewhere between the neon and the noise, you stop being a tourist and start being just another person moving through the night.
Read MoreEvery great city has a street that smells like this — charcoal and chilli and something frying in oil so hot it spits blue sparks into the dark. Bangkok has a hundred of them.
Read MoreHe works without looking at his hands. The flame leaps, the wok tilts, the sparks scatter across the wet pavement. Around him the city keeps moving. He doesn't.
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