Hey there, it’s Richard. Been up since the crack of dawn, watching the tide roll in over Maenam Beach. There’s something about mornings here that Bukowski would’ve loved — raw, unfiltered, with a hint of melancholy mixed with pure, unadulterated beauty.
Just finished my morning coffee from the little street vendor down the lane. His brew is like liquid poetry — strong enough to wake the ghosts of a thousand hangovers, smooth enough to make you forget whatever demons were chasing you yesterday.
