I hate February, solely because it just wanted to be different for no good reason. Well, I mean, there’s got to be an adjustment since it is 365.25 days per year but why February had to be the one who take it. This kind of people who sacrifice themselves for the sake of others when it’s not that necessary is not considered “noble” or “honorable” in my book. Fair is fair, don’t spoil the society by handing it the advantage.
This is just my angry rant about random things, like why the strong eucalyptus-y scent was added in every single product in order to call it “for Men” or why girls wear headband without putting their bang up, when it’s boring and it’s beaming hot and I have nothing to do what so ever, only wandering endlessly along the town and slowly realizing that there’s not even a point of doing what I’m doing right now.
On the way toward the train station, I noticed a girl in the corner holding a board in one hand and a bunch of papers in the other. Normally, it’s usually not translated to anything and I would probably walk pass by. But this time it’s different. She is around my age. She had quite a big bubbly smile on her face. She was well dressed (in alight blue and white Polka dot). And she's Russian.
Of course I didn’t notice all of that right away, the unusual settings stunted me at first and that made me nervous so I started jamming really fast to get pass her (but not too fast that it became obvious) while only had one glance toward the whole thing. Then I quickly turned to the art gallery that I visited 3 times this week to defragment what just happened. I generally don’t support this kind of stuff but I somewhat recalled seeing the word “travel” on the board and the papers are actually paintings. After a few minutes, I decided to approach, like a proper adults.
“ err…I saw that thing…”
I pointed toward the board that is actually a spread notebook with the writing which I forgot what it said but basically told that she’s a Russian selling her paintings and drawings for whatever price the buyer wanted to give for “travelling”.
“ Oh yes! “
(and she handed me all her work, there’re about ten of them)
“ How much are these?”
(I asking a dumb question)
“ It’s up you”
(Pointing at the writing on the notebook)
“These are my paintings so I can’t put the price on it.”
“How long have you been staying here?”
“You mean ACTUALLY staying right here or in Thailand?”
“I meant in Thailand.”
“I’d already stayed here for a month now and would like to stay longer, maybe another month or two but I don’t have enough money so here I am standing here selling.”
“and how long have you ACTUALLY staying right here”
“Just only about 20 minutes and I already sold half of my pictures! Can you believe it? I'd never thought it would be this popular.”
I can tell that she’s really surprise, at least more than me for sure. Her work was good but it’s not really what I like at all. The ones that semi-interesting are too doodle-ish to, as her just stated, put a price on it.
I pick the paintings I think has the most substance of the bunch, the pictures is not the point anyway so…shit! forgot that I only have really big banknotes.
Well that’s awkward.
“(reluctantly speaking) I’ll take this one but don’t have small…uhh.. money so I’m gonna go over there for an exchange and come b…”
Wow that’s for sure awkward.
I handed back the pictures and started jamming, again, to the train station thinking how thoughtful and bold of her to do this and try flicking through my note book to find some usable drawing to maybe show her back (unfortunately,there’re only a couple and they are all lame as hell). When I walked back to her there’s another woman with her acting all overly friendly and asking her lots of questions with the paintings in the women’s hands, mine was in it too.
When she saw me walking up she quickly took back the paintings from the women just polite enough to not viewed as rude and handed me the one I picked , I handed her three 20-baht banknotes
“So it’s 40 baht per painting right?” asked Ms. Chatterbox after mistakenly count the money. The girl started to explain what she’s already well written on the notebook again with no sign of irritation. After millionth and two questions (Including asking her for a Facebook account, heyyy what’s wrong with you) she then asked her for a photo,great, why don’t you give her your first born child and 3 cars maybe...wait…calm down, I can handle taking a picture or two, just relax.
“One…two…no no no hold that thing clearly”
Ms. Chatterbox yet again obnoxiously directing to girl to hold the pictures and the notebook properly.
I then also held up my camera waiting for a three
the bleep start ringing right after the I hit he shutter. of course its gonna happen, the memory is full.
Ms.Fuckingchatterbox was STILL not done with her and there’re now more people waiting to buy paintings with a hundred in their hand and that’s making me feel weird again.
I didn’t know how long she’s been noticing me but she finely give me the eye while nodding to the conversation
“I just want to said good luck to you because I…travel also and 60 baht (hear that? not 40, You chatterbox) is not much but I’m only a student so..”
“No! no! it’s totally fine. thank you.”
We exchanged big smiles and then I turned back and walked away.
I let myself being pathetically hypothetical for a minute thinking maybe we could meet again in St.Petersburg but this time I’m the seller and she’s the buyer. Then I wanted to go back and took another proper photo (I only snap a quick one with her head down) of her so I can draw and give it to her then. But hell, even the cheesiest soap opera writer knows that’s not gonna happen and 3 trips back and forth to her are already looking beyond desperate. Some people just meant to meet for a specific amount of time, being stubborn and try to drag it as long as it can is not gonna help. At least that’s my belief in this point.
So, thank you for the painting… actually not the painting because it’s not the point in the first place...and I did overpay for it.
Thank you for making me forget to hate February for a little while, Oksa : )