tatsoi

@tatsoi.bsky.social

61 Followers 41 Following

If I added you when I made the account, you know me*. Servant to a wee dog, a novel in progress and a lot of strawberry plants. No politics here, for personal reasons. Not a histscalemodeler *Except for the big accounts, cause I'm not that memorable.

The sun bakes down on the alley, reflecting off the buildings’ white walls. Talay turns sharply at the sound of a young woman’s cry. He races towards the man attacking her, sending him flying into a pile of barrels with the strength of his blow. He and Petch continue on, still searching for their lead, a street dealer working for the Chiang Mai boss who insulted Wichai. They find him at last, down the end of an alley. "Take us to your boss," Petch shouts. "Wichai has business with him." Twenty men, gangsters and fighters all, come into the lane, pounding their fists, brandishing knives, cocking their pistols. “Save yourself,” Talay shouts as he turns and runs. At the corner, he veers right while Petch continues on, the gang splitting in two to follow them both. Talay races through the narrow lanes, dodging pedestrians and vehicles. His pursuers are nearly upon him when a tuk tuk passes by. He leaps onto its side, holding desperately onto its roof while Petch accelerates them away.
Ratree checks the keycard in the pocket of her trousers as she looks around the half-crowded room of the hotel bar. It’s a middle of the road kind of place, nothing fancy. A very average rock band plays tried and true songs from the last three decades, a mix of American hits and Thai. Those dancing in front of them are a constantly shifting jumble. The beer is good, and that’s why many are here.
Restless and in another dingy dive, the third of the night, Ratree leans against the bar and grimaces at the taste of watery beer. She’s off kilter and it doesn’t help that she’s distrusting herself, knowing that at least one hunter knew enough to find her, she doesn’t know how many times, and she had missed him. A man observant enough to know the approach to take to make it into one of her rooms. He knew her and she had missed him until he made himself known. Thank fuck for her routines and precautions and not letting him have a knife near her bed, for noticing his boots and remembering to check them while he slept. Thank fuck for making him so relaxed and satisfied and content he slept. For the twinge which told her to look at that scar again, the one he had distracted her from with his cheeky charming grin and a delicious dream of running away. What a dangerously sweet mouth he has. She casts her eyes over the men here tonight. He’s not here, of course he isn’t. No, not of course. He’s good. But maybe he knows not to look or maybe he just hasn’t found her. She doesn’t see the guy from the pool game. There are scars but none over the left eyebrow. Two are stocky but they’ve paid no attention to her at all.
Talay is surprised too, and delighted. Ratree warms to the openness of his smile and returns it with her own. “Anyone hunting you today?” he asks. “There’s always a chance,” she replies. “Have you eaten yet? We could get something. Hunters use food for bait, you know.” He winks at her. “Is that what you’ll tell your boss if he finds out?” “I’ve convinced him that I’m running a long con on you, gain your trust, lull you into letting your guard down and making a mistake.” “I don’t make those sorts of mistakes, khun.” Her voice is serious but there’s a smile on her face. “Then I’ll just have to keep trying. Can I buy you dinner tonight?” He takes her free hand and brings it to his mouth, his lips gentle, his eyes warm as he looks into hers. Is this what it feels like to date? It can’t go anywhere, neither of their lives will allow it, but it’s lovely to pretend for a moment. They find a quiet table, not caring what food its owner serves, just craving this bit of normalcy, a respite from their lives of distrust and caution. Two people, just a woman and a man, enjoying conversation and each other’s company.
“If you’re planning on leaving alone,” he says, “I’ll sit here quietly so you can drink in peace. I'm a man and I’ve got some muscles, the arseholes will give me the respect they should be giving you.” She’s heard plenty of pick up lines. This is an unusual approach. “I mean it,” he says, turning towards her. “If you’re just here to drink, I’ll make sure they let you do that.” “And if I’m not?” she asks. A mischievous grin lights up his face. “Then maybe you’ll give me a chance, na?” She laughs, the tension from before easing. “That smile must get you out of a lot of trouble.” His eyes dance. “Maybe tonight it will get me into some.” Ratree raises an eyebrow at him. He shrugs. “Or I could just sit here and entertain you.” “You could do that,” she says. She’s curious about this hide and seek he’s playing. Engaging, all invitation, no pressure. She wonders how that translates, what he’s like in bed. And then she smiles. Well done, well done. It's working. He grins. "See, I already am."
Two Thai actors with short dark hair and dressed in traditional clothing sit on a wooden platform. Nak, played by Inthira Charoenpura, is on the right, wearing a dark reddish brown breast cloth and a brown sarong. Mak, played by Winai Kraibutr, sits on the right. His torso is bare, he wears only the traditional male cloth. He's looking at her with a happy expression, while she looks down at the betel nut she holds in her hands.
Perfect yellow courgette, maybe seven inches long, with the big leaves and thick stalks of a courgette plant around it. A courgette flower and another bloom below it in the foreground. Plant is growing in a grey container with a beige wool mulch on top of the soil.
He pauses as the woman he’s following stops outside a shop and begins snapping photographs of herself with her phone. How vain, he thinks, so frivolous. He moves towards her. She puts her phone away and continues down the street. He lets others get between them, he won’t lose her, not with that bright fluttery shirt she’s wearing. It’s like a beacon in the crowd, drawing attention to her. He glances around, he’s not the only man watching her. That one, with hunger in his eyes, like it was closing time at a bar. He doesn’t know he won’t be the one accompanying her home. The nondescript man, he’s the one who will be doing that. She stops to look at whatever tat someone is selling. He falls back, annoyed when the auntie asks him if he’d like to buy the flowers he’s pretending to consider. He hands her some bhat and waits impatiently while she selects a few stems. The woman in the flouncy red blouse continues down the street.
From the centre of the spotlight on his oversized chair, Wichai sneers at Talay. “What do you mean, too risky? Are you going soft? Spending too much time with that girl? Have you broken her yet?” His tone is nasty and full of derision. “Prove yourself a man and take out Sompob. It’s been stupidly long since you made a hit. If you fail again, you will be the one who dies. Kaojai mai?” “Khap boss.” . Talay recognises how impossible a situation it is. It was only a matter of time. He wonders how he might get a final message to Ratree. He’d risk turning his phone back on for this. It wouldn’t be fair to her though, to say what he most wants to tell her, to leave her with that. He settles into his surveillance position outside the rear entrance to the nightclub. His only hope is that he remains hidden and is able to disappear back into the city. . An over-priced imported car arrives. Talay readies his weapon. Men pour out of its doors, firing at him. Everything goes dark.
“DTAA!” Pai hurtles himself into his grandfather’s legs. “FISH!!!” Aom laughs as Jeab’s paa picks up their son and hugs him tight. “Yes, we’ll go fishing if you want. Are you going to touch one this time?” Pai’s eyes go wide. “MAI DAI” he exclaims at a lower volume as he squirms to get down. “Are you sure paa?” Jeab asks, coming into the room with Pai’s bag. He holds on tight to the small child. “Dai si. We are going to have so much fun, aren’t we luk? Yai bought extra mangoes especially for you too.” “MANGO!”
Thai actor Winai Kraibutr's well defined back. Crop of a screenshot from 1999 film Nang Nak. This scene was lit by lamp light, giving it all a warm golden glow and plenty of shadows. The cinematography on the film is stunning.
Unable to sleep, Ratree makes her way through the trees to the shore. She looks up at the stars and the moon’s ivory sliver above in the night and it all comes out in a scream. Her anger and frustration at the way things are. Inthira’s obsession, Wichai’s abuse, a world full of plastic and pollution and greed. Of men who spike women’s drinks, who want her sexual but on their terms, their fantasies. A cry of rage and anguish for everyone caught up in making it through another week and a world which keeps recklessly rumbling on, unheeding. All the compromises they make to get through. All the fucking compromises she can’t find any way out of. None of it needs to be this way. She throws back her head, her arms, and howls into the still of the night.
Red strawberries, some with green still attached, on a plate on a small wood table.
Ratree wakes on the shore, curled up tight, shivering. She looks out across the water, agitated waves breaking the quarter moon’s reflection. The storm at least has abated. Her bones ache with the cold. Everything goes black again. . The lowering light of sunset seeps through the gap in the curtains when her awareness returns. Is this her room? She does not know how she got here or why the heat is stifling. She struggles to breathe through its weight. . She is on the shore again when she wakes, coughing up water, cold so deep it burns. She is 8 years old. She feels her hair, yes this is the year Mae cut it too short. Lung Jo kneels over her, gathers her into his arms, calling her name amongst his sobs as he holds her so tight she gasps for breath. Everything swirls.
The water is deep and dim, Earth is lost somewhere in here. She can’t find him anywhere. Where is he? Where is Earth? Lung Jo’s deep voice shouting her name muffled by the water. She looks around and around, unable to see anyone. Gan’s small frantic cries. “Earth. Earth. Earth.” Where is he. Where is Earth? She wakes from her nightmare, rubbing her eyes sleepily with her small hands, before padding softly over to peer at the boys on the other side of the room. Earth is safe in bed, one foot outside the covers. Gan’s pillow is on the floor again. She retrieves it and carefully tucks it under his head, then presses her nose to his forehead in a goodnight haawm. “Fan dii na,” she whispers. Ratree emerges from half sleep before she can cover Earth’s foot or give him his haawm or wish him good dreams.
Ratree settles in on the sofa with a bowl of mango sticky rice. She fishes through the electronics on the coffee table, throws several foam inserts over her shoulder and finally finds the remote. She presses Play, and nothing happens. She sets her dessert on the table and shakes the remote. Still nothing. She opens the back, removes the batteries, looks them over and replaces them. Still nothing. She checks the manufacturer, it’s the right one. She frowns and looks at the door to Gan’s bedroom, wondering what he’s done and when he might wake. She looks at the piles on the table next to his work bench, shrugs and goes to her room to retrieve the universal remote she keeps hidden in a package of sanitary pads underneath her bras.
He takes a deep breath. “If it’s not too rude to ask, it’s been a while. I know I’ll mess up a relationship but I’d really like to make a woman happy again. I’d like to think I’m still good at it.” His face is a fascinating mix of earnestness, hope and confidence trying to find its way out again. If this is a line, if this is a lie, it’s the sweetest she’s heard. Her smile is warm and inviting. “I think you probably are.” His confidence brightens. He hesitates as he leans towards her, reaching out his hand to ever so lightly brush a finger down the side of her face and following it with a lingering haawm, slowly breathing in her scent from her ear to her jaw, setting her nerves tingling with the sensation. He brushes his finger up the centre of her chin and over her lips and then brings his to hers in the lightest of kisses, barely touching, just breathing together while time stops. He has her full attention. She breathes one word, her voice soft and low. “Bpai.”
Earth brings in a box of smuggled goods, which Gan really wants kept secret from Ratree. “Why the secrecy? You get packages all the time and she doesn’t ask anything about them.” “I, um, ah,” Gan clears his throat, “owe her a vibrator.” Earth bursts out laughing. Gan looks sheepish. “She left it in the bathroom. “I was bored. It was there. It looked like a phone receiver.” “What is it now?” “A phone of course.”
He tries to keep his awareness on those around him as he walks back to the mansion, two carrier bags in his left hand. His right in his pocket, holding his knife securely. Someone bumps into him while he’s waiting to cross a road. His fingers tighten around his knife. He doesn’t like where his thoughts are heading, this desire to slip it out open and into the man behind him with a hand at his back pocket. He tries to calm himself by thinking of Ratree’s laughter, the kindness in her eyes as she listens to him. Protecting her is the priority. He tenses further instead, his fear burning into anger against the men who want to control and harm her. By the time he reaches the mansion, he has a plan.
Still intertwined on the bed, Talay understands how much has changed. He watches her napping quietly in his arms, her hand on his chest. The dangers of his life, his old life, have been left on the mainland, further and further behind. His life is his own now, and it is hers. She stirs, and opens peaceful, drowsy eyes. He runs his finger over the moonstone, still at her neck. Faen seems like such a simple word after all they’ve been through. She lifts her head to kiss him tenderly. And he understands what has changed within himself. That he has taken her more deeply into his heart than he knew possible. He brings her hand to his lips. “You have me,” he says, “body and soul you have me, my entire heart.” She opens her lips to speak, then stops, her eyes filling with tears as she looks into his. He strokes the side of her face. “What is it?” he asks.
Earth pretends to sip from his martini glass as his eyes scan the high-society crowd, men in expensive suits, the woman each has brought - a wife, a fiancee, a mistress - to showcase his wealth and his many successes, even when he is failing. He locates his target, a consultant to members of the government who has found his way into a decidedly lucrative position. He moves closer to him, his attention seemingly directed towards the lights of the city sparkling outside the glass walls of the high-rise condominium. When the man reaches for another glass of champagne from the waiter’s tray, Earth gasps, quiet but audible, as he looks at the man’s very expensive watch. Eager for his wealth and taste to be appreciated, the consultant makes his excuses to those he was conversing with and moves towards Earth. “You’re a connoisseur then?” he asks.
“I can still hope?” he stutters, trying to give her his familiar cheeky grin. He grimaces with the pain of his injuries instead, the darkness closing in. It would be so easy to just let go. He fights to stay, clinging to her voice, her presence, her touch, even for a moment longer. His words are slow. “I did alright by you, na?” He gasps with the effort. “It was good, right?” “Tay….” She bows her head against his cheek, her hands still trying to hold his life in, her eyes brimming, hidden. “If this is….” His voice is weak, his eyes unfocused. “Don’t talk like that, Tay. You’ll be alright, you have to be alright.” The shadows are so heavy, so near, the moon’s light so weak, so far.
The door opens before Talay knocks and Ratree pulls him in, holding him tight. She is shaking. She held it together for Gan, but he has Earth and Earth is so much better at these things. Talay holds her close to him and rubs her back to calm her. “It’s alright, phi. I’m safe. We’re all safe.” She buries her head against his neck. He remembers what Earth said, that day during the security review, how Ratree and Gan would act on their training missions. “Gan and I were looking out for each other the whole time. He’s less spectacular in his protection than you,” he kisses her head tenderly, “but I was never in danger thanks to him.” She pulls back and gulps down air. She remembers the small child so scared of the bullies and how she’d climb onto his bed in the middle of the night to hold him while he cried, Earth hanging on to him too, like all of their lives depended on this closeness, like they could keep the shadows at bay a while longer as long as none of them let go. Talay watches her, seeing the depth of emotion but not understanding its whys. “Can you tell me?” he asks. She crumples to the ground and sobs. He holds her like he’ll never let go.
“You had someone working on my mission and you didn’t tell me.” It’s a statement of fact. Ratree grins like a child caught pilfering khanom. “Mhm.” She looks up at him hopefully. He looks back, trying not to laugh. She shrugs. “He’s my secret weapon-in-law.” She stops. “Are you mad about that?” “No, not really,” he pauses. “There was a lot to take in, when you told me.” She nods. It’s still a lot to take in. He decides not to bring that up, not so soon, not when they’re both still climbing out of the chasm. She needs his grin. He gives her one. Her relief is palpable. She exhales.
He turns to look back, once, twice, and then again. He is cautious and careful, this unknown man. Watching him from behind a tree, she thinks that she is perhaps on the borders of his awareness, that he knows something isn’t as it should be, but he can’t quite place it, uncertain if it is just his mind, or the wind, or a being of the night. She glides from tree to tree, following him, observing him, learning how he moves, seeking to understand him.
The sun bakes down on the alley, reflecting off the buildings’ white walls. Talay turns sharply at the sound of a young woman’s cry. He races towards the man attacking her, sending him flying into a pile of barrels with the strength of his blow. He and Petch continue on, still searching for their lead, a street dealer working for the Chiang Mai boss who insulted Wichai. They find him at last, down the end of an alley. "Take us to your boss," Petch shouts. "Wichai has business with him." Twenty men, gangsters and fighters all, come into the lane, pounding their fists, brandishing knives, cocking their pistols. “Save yourself,” Talay shouts as he turns and runs. At the corner, he veers right while Petch continues on, the gang splitting in two to follow them both. Talay races through the narrow lanes, dodging pedestrians and vehicles. His pursuers are nearly upon him when a tuk tuk passes by. He leaps onto its side, holding desperately onto its roof while Petch accelerates them away.
He pauses as the woman he’s following stops outside a shop and begins snapping photographs of herself with her phone. How vain, he thinks, so frivolous. He moves towards her. She puts her phone away and continues down the street.
Green netting over a dark green metal frame with 3 troughs of strawberry plants inside. Copper mesh around the lower edge because so many slugs. All of it sitting on pavement with pots and planters nearby. Two of the troughs are on a drip tray meant for grow bags. I was trying them on it for size. The metal frame is intended for tomatoes too (in a grow bag) but it works very well to keep the birds away from the strawberries. The wind (we get a lot of wind) blows right through it and it's very easy to tip over onto its side and back as needed.
Gan opens the bedroom door and looks into the living area. “Can I come out? Aren’t you done yet?” “Mai dai,” Ratree and Earth shout in unison. Ratree shields the cake she is decorating from his view. It’s his birthday, and every bit of this is their tradition. He closes the door and goes back to his laptop. Earth finishes the last of the dishes for the feast spread out on the table. Ratree frowns at the cake again, then looks at Earth. He nods and hands her the cover to put over it. They’re ready. After they’ve eaten their fill, a long meal of conversation, family and food, Ratree lights the candles on the cake. It’s lumpy and lop-sided. Gan beams as she sits it on the table in front of him. He’s seven years old again, with the aunties and Lung Jo gathered round, his best friends on either side of him, and the misshapen cake they made themselves. It’s perfect. His wish as he blows out the candles is the same he makes every year. That they will all be safe and here for the next.
The starless night is shadow upon shadow, low heavy clouds obscuring the moon. Ratree hurls stone after stone into the ink dark sea, their rippling circles multiplying as the rain comes on. She doesn’t know what’s happened with Talay. She doesn’t know how to find out. Anything she could do that she hasn’t done would put him at risk. She clings to the hope that he is still alive, that he isn’t already beyond all risk. Her arm aches with the force of her throwing, stone after stone into the dark dark sea. The sky’s water soaks her through, cold and hard and uncomfortable. She lifts her head and lets water fill her eyes and fall across her cheeks. She tries not to think of the worst and instead misses the irreverent charm in his smile. Its absence is an unending ache. She wraps her arms around herself. Twice leads to this? The way he listens to her when she’s serious and laughs with her when she’s not. His heart on his sleeve and in his gorgeous dark eyes. She bends to pick up another stone, winds back her arm and throws it with every ounce of her strength. She cannot tell where it enters the water, its ripples lost amongst the rain crashing down. Where is he?
She has to pass by closer than she wants, it will be the quietest path. You against me, she thinks. Are your senses better than my skill? And how careful are you of what might be behind. She settles herself, draws breath into her core and glides out into the night. He looks around as she passes, feeling unsettled, as if he were in the presence of a ghost. He cannot see anything out of place. He listens carefully, the noises of the night his only company. He does not see her pause behind a tree, just a shadow waiting for his attention to disperse again. They both wait. The patrol is getting farther away, they will be harder to find and the longer she delays, the more risks she’ll have to take to catch up to them. The man whose attention has her pinned is patient. Why is he here, what is he doing? He looks around again, in the direction the men went. And then back to the unsettling feeling he cannot shake that he is not alone. He moves with care and deliberation, making his way through the trees.
The sun bakes down on the alley, reflecting off the buildings’ white walls. Talay turns sharply at the sound of a young woman’s cry. He races towards the man attacking her, sending him flying into a pile of barrels with the strength of his blow. He and Petch continue on, still searching for their lead, a street dealer working for the Chiang Mai boss who insulted Wichai. They find him at last, down the end of an alley. "Take us to your boss," Petch shouts. "Wichai has business with him." Twenty men, gangsters and fighters all, come into the lane, pounding their fists, brandishing knives, cocking their pistols. “Save yourself,” Talay shouts as he turns and runs. At the corner, he veers right while Petch continues on, the gang splitting in two to follow them both. Talay races through the narrow lanes, dodging pedestrians and vehicles. His pursuers are nearly upon him when a tuk tuk passes by. He leaps onto its side, holding desperately onto its roof while Petch accelerates them away. Trapped by a dead end, they abandon the vehicle, sprinting for a wall. Petch cups his hands, boosting Talay. Talay reaches down to haul Petch up, and they race across the roof. They climb in through an upper floor window of the next building and hide, listening to the tumult as their pursuers run past. Now the pursuers are the ones pursued. From the roof, they see the directions the men have taken. They leap down and follow the street dealer and the four men with him to a house. “Come out and talk, Wichai sent us here,” Petch shouts. “If you don’t come out, we’re coming in,” Talay adds. Talay covers as Petch kicks the door in. He nods towards the reflection of a man’s back in a mirror. Petch leaps into the room, gunfire ringing out. The man slumps against a pillar, gone to his next life.
Bpaa = Auntie; phi = older (sibling); mai dai ~ no, don't He remembers the night Gan was in hospital, the last time the bullies came for him. Ratree had refused to leave him, equal parts anger and grief, until the adults gave in and let them stay, one on either side of the bed, each with an arm over him, as if they could guard him from what had already happened. He remembers her rage, when they were in the hall and the doctor was talking with Bpaa Nok, and Gan hadn’t woken up yet and no one knew how bad his injuries were. How he had held onto her, kicking and shouting, desperate to hurt those who had hurt her Gan. Pleading with her not to, “please phi no, mai dai, mai dai,” all of his not yet 15 year old strength holding onto her to keep her from getting hurt herself, from giving in to the storm inside, until she broke down and they wept on the floor, clinging onto each other. When she found the bullies, her fury was white fire. She had to leave school but they never came for Gan again.
Thai actors Ohm Pawat as Thun, light grey shirt on the left, and Singto Prachaya as Med, light blue jacket on the right. They're standing in front of a brown abstract sculpture on the university campus. From the series He's Coming to Me. Thun is probably winding Med up about something - his face is puckered up, like he was saying oooo, while Med frowns at him.
Ratree settles in on the sofa with a bowl of mango sticky rice. She fishes through the electronics on the coffee table, throws several foam inserts over her shoulder and finally finds the remote. She presses Play, and nothing happens. She sets her dessert on the table and shakes the remote. Still nothing. She opens the back, removes the batteries, looks them over and replaces them. Still nothing. She checks the manufacturer, it’s the right one. She frowns and looks at the door to Gan’s bedroom, wondering what he’s done and when he might wake. She looks at the piles on the table next to his work bench, shrugs and goes to her room to retrieve the universal remote she keeps hidden in a package of sanitary pads underneath her bras.
Two varieties of thyme in full flower. The one on the left is paler purple. It came from a plant I got for 59 p in the grocery section of Asda four years ago. The one on the right is a fancier variety but it's overgrown its label so I'll have to go poking around to find it. It's lower to the ground, darker purple and blooms slightly later. There are bees somewhere in there but they had far too much important bee business and didn't have time to pose for a photo.
Green gooseberries on a young gooseberry plant with cardboard mulch and the neighbour's busted wooden fence in the background behind the council's standard wire mesh fence.
Amongst the sound of the birds’ morning songs, a generic white van stops by the side of a winding road. There is no other traffic. The driver finishes her coffee, crushes the paper cup and leaves the key in the ignition. She removes two license plates from under the seat and gets out of the vehicle. She hands one to the man who’s just emerged from amongst the trees. While he changes the rear plate, she and the woman he was with swap the front. “There was a hold-up with Ae’s shirts, tell her they should be here next week. Everything else as requested.” The woman nods. “Khop jai, phi.” She turns to the man as he joins them. “Ready to go?” He nods and hands the driver the keys to the motorbike parked amongst the trees. “See you in five weeks,” he says, getting into the van. They depart in opposite directions.