The Embellished Grand

In a dizzy dreamlike rush, I passed the other boats, shrines and cluttered buildings of Bangkok; onward to the detailed and embellished Grand. The Grand Palace made such an impression on me the previous time I saw it, that it was inevitable to take to the river once more, and this time with a camera. I clicked away in mindless monotony over the ripples of the hazel water. A weary angst that I might not capture all in the short stay I was granted. 

My thoughts drifted back to a few hours before: a fine breakfast I got to have with three of my close friends earlier that morning. I remembered that we laughed. But somehow my brain could not classify the breakfast as an event that was connected to the boat I was bopping in. No, my brain argued, that must have been another day. My heart tricked, and desperate for proof, I wished I had rather taken a photograph of the friendly faces over breakfast. My tainted memory: reduced to a hovering smile like that of the Cheshire cat. Had I not been such an insomniac during that time, had I not dropped my guard, had I not enjoyed their company so. Yes, reason hit me right then, as the white horses crashed against the bow. You see, most of my dearest memories are but intangible and abstract, like threads of light carried in my heart. Had they been pictures, they would have all been overexposed anyway. Most details may be forgotten, but the feelings that these faint memories evoke, are strong, evident and enduring. You don't always need a photograph of everything.   

I took another snapshot just before the boat stopped. What an uninspiring image, I thought. 

I sobered up over an incredible shrimp pad thai and an unidentified fruit juice in a street market. The shade beneath the umbrellas: very welcome.

The expected déjà vu returned again, and I found myself strolling alone in a dirty street in Bangkok. Raising my gaze over the palace's walls presented quite the opposite of the streets: pristine and intricate white washed towers. 

The flawless prayer flowers sold at the entrance. Purity on a stem. 

Clearly a wonder wall. 

Heavy lifting gold should rather be called heavy, heavy, very heavy lifting.

Like a Bollywood Film without the choreography. Embellished to the very tip of the tower. 

Just a note: do not be deceived by these images. I only selected the ones with no tourists in. Quite the challenge. But it is my prerogative to choose the memories that I would like to keep. But then, movement was welcomed after all. 

Like a wave of Thai buildings and adornments. 

Wall figures dance. And I try to decipher the story without a guide.

The Far East identified beneath a dreamy sky. 

The Grand Palace is an exceptional place. Compelled to record the fascinating structures, shimmering in the perfect sunlight, I had to succumb to take photographs. (For my tangible visual diary.) Some features are just too intricate to remember just like that. And I didn't want to be tricked again. Especially with all the little mirrors and golden embellishments around, where illusions are bound to appear. 

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