Thais always walk in the shade. When they walk at all. They seldom do. Jackets cover their arms. Trousers conceal their legs. Baby powder masks their whitened faces. Umbrellas become parasols. They think me mad. This crazy Scotsman basking in the sun’s full glare. Decked out in shorts and shirt sleeves. My skin turning a reddish gold in the heat. They can never understand my love for the sun. For they have never lived without its glorious munificence. They have never known what it is to be truly cold.
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