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THE WRITER<br />
Where were they heading to? The sound of rushing cars gave me hope<br />
and a chance to kill my boredom. I often ran toward the fence to stare at<br />
them whenever I could. The cars looked so free, like a flock of birds<br />
soaring through the sky without limitations. I yearned for that ability<br />
very much. I yearned for freedom.<br />
Many years after leaving the camp, I however, am very tired of noisy<br />
traffic sounds that even in the depth of the night—disrupted and woke<br />
me up from my sleep. In my years of college, I met many people.<br />
Sometimes, I wonder if any of my Thai classmates was inside a car that<br />
sped by or participated in those parties during that time I spent staring at<br />
them from inside Phanat Nikhom. If so, who would imagine that we<br />
would finally end up at the same place? A place that offered us the same<br />
chance toward enlightenment. But I never asked. At least for the moment,<br />
I won’t have to wonder about what was beyond the fence again.<br />
<strong>TRAVERSE</strong> 71
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