The Running Man

Location: Malacca, Malaysia

NP: Guns N' Roses - You Could Be Mine

Mood: Energetic

The sun was up and the rugged road felt harsh under my slim soled Binsin sneakers. Cars lined the parking lots and filled the streets. It was difficult to run among such commotion so I steered to the smaller, bleaker streets. They lead me into a residential area by the river. Locals stared at me from the shade of their restaurants as if I was a madman. As if only madmen ran at this hour of the day.

It seemed so safe here. It was getting familiar. Getting lost seemed difficult, if not impossible. The lady at the reception had hollered a cheerful "hello" and "good morning" as I'd passed her.

Cars. They were everywhere. Even on these smaller roads you had to keep an eye out for traffic. Through the headphones of my mp3 player Axl Rose claimed I could be his.

My Sansa Clip+ mp3 player had been essential on this trip. It would keep me entertained through long rides and packed flights, through hours of road and crowded airports. It had told me of the troubles of Honor Harrington on Basilisk Station and articulated Stephen King's opinions on writing. It would switch off the noise of the world when that was what I needed.

Two large, crazy dogs of brown and black barked at me as I approached their den by the road. One was in a cage, but one was free, taking shelter from the merciless sun under a car. They barked and growled and bared teeth. I kept approaching. A local man parked his car at a neighbour's house next to the dogs, but decided to remain inside the car and just honk. Someone appeared on the balcony.

The caged dog slammed against the rickety chain-link fence, growling furiously. And I approached with all the brash abandon Pretty Maids' "Eye of the Storm" playing on the mp3 player could muster. Which was not much. Wild eyes glared at me from under the car and the beast's ferocious barks sounded like thunderclaps in my ears.

And then I was past.

The water of the shower felt cool on my sweaty skin. For a moment the water stopped abruptly, leaving me abound with soapy ooze, but after a minute continued again as if nothing had happened.

Nothing had happened. Nothing needed to happen. To be and to breathe it in was all that was required. There were no worries.