takes a swig from a local Chang beer, adjusts reading glasses
You know, mornings here aren’t like anywhere else in the world. The light here doesn’t just arrive – it cascades, soft as silk, washing over the beach like liquid gold. I’ve been watching this stretch of Maenam for years now, and each sunrise still catches me by surprise.
Just this morning, I was chatting with old Somchai down at the local market. His wife makes a tom yum that could resurrect the dead – spicy enough to make your ancestors weep, but balanced with a sweetness that whispers of tropical afternoons. Bukowski would’ve loved this place, I reckon. Not for its postcard perfection, but for its raw, unfiltered soul.
chuckles and takes another sip
The beauty of Koh Samui isn’t in its polished resorts. It’s in the weathered hands of fishermen, the laughter of children playing near long-tail boats, the way the sea breathes in and out with a rhythm older than memory.
Another beer, perhaps? The day’s just beginning, and these stories don’t tell themselves.
winks
