A two-storeyed, angular building with grey walls, stained with mould and mildew. Sandwiched between other, similarly begrimed by torrential rains of the monsoon season, a sizzling sun of the dry period, and fumes of everyday heavy traffic. 

The first-floor windows extend to a view of thick black electric cables running through the entire length of the street. Bright with neon signs ground floor vibrates with life.

“What is it going to be today?” asks a tiny woman, with a sigh of relief removing from her shoulders two baskets. Both, connected with a bamboo stick, are overflowing with fresh fruits.

“As usual. Some apples, dragon fruits and lychees.” replies a lady owner of the scooter rental shop and halfway stops sweeping the parking lot. Instead, she reaches to a standing nearby container with cold water, fills in a plastic cup and gives it to the street vendor.

“Thank you. The heat today is impossible again.” selling lady accepts gratefully refreshing liquid and adjusting a cane-woven, conical hat on her head asks: “Husband is not in today?”

“Oh, no, no! He is in! Over there, in the shade” the shop owner replies, pointing towards a row of scooters behind her. There, in a cooler, shady corner, stretched through seats of three vehicles lies the business owner. Fast asleep. In an elegant, white shirt, black suit pants – he is ready at any time to strike a deal. Even in his sleep.

Next to him, on a makeshift, tiny, portable grill a hawker barbeques meat and seafood. The mouth-watering fragrance of grilled chicken and prawns in hot soy sauce fills the air. At the corner – a trolley stand with soft and hard drinks. In the shade of its umbrella customers haggle with the sellers. A group of local men, near the cigarettes kiosk, roars with laughter. They watch a young tourist and his photographic object – an owner of the cigarettes stand blissfully snoring under the shelter of his cane-woven hat.

A sudden noise on the street turns their attention. In the middle of the road lay a scooter and its cargo – tied with strings and ropes stack of cardboard boxes. As nothing ever happened, the driver gets up, flicks the dust from his clothes and adjust slightly slanted helmet. Observers of the incident slowly and nonchalantly step into the non-stopping traffic. Countless cars and scooters magically avoid them as if an invisible magnetic field surrounded them.

“Is it secured? Won’t it tip over?”

“No no, it’s good now.”

“Okay, then let’s load it up. One, two, threeeee.”

“Pull! Pull harder!”

“Great! Done! Are all the boxes loaded?”

“Yes, yes! All fifteen. Thank you! I’m on my way to pick up a bed frame and all these are to be delivered to a customer beforehand.”

Dispersing men are passed by a scooter with a family glancing at the occurrence. A five-year-old toddler, standing on a footrest in front of dad-driver, opens his mouth in astonishment. At the back, mum tries to keep in place two youngest offspring, who are lifted from her safe embrace by extreme curiosity.