Colour of night

The colour of night is hot red and neon blue; faded flamingo pink against baby-blue hues. Neon colours emitted from the girlie bars pierce the darkest corners of the night, splash about the pavement, and are cast tattoo-like upon the skin of each passerby. The lights work their magic. Slyly, they dim the ageing faces of the girls perched on bar stools sipping Leo through a lipstick coated straw.  A solitary ice cube bobs against the rim and with each small sip, slowly diminishes in the dank summer humidity. Time is the real commodity here.

Time spent waiting alone is time without anything to show for it. Time is indeed a cruel master. Free days pass too briefly while time back in the Provinces to visit mamma and pappa comes between the seasons: the ‘make money’ season, when tourists pack the bars  and everyone wants a companion. Followed by the tortuous low season, when the monsoon rains blanket the cities and conspires to keep all but the ‘regulars’ away. As the daylight gives way to night, the reds, blues and babydoll pinks flicker to life again. Smiles are switched on, lips stick guns drawn …  buy me a Leo will you?