Obs.

The Paki from behind his pillar furtively observing the meal being consumed. Cool nights his clay oven offers some welcome warmth—even here in the tropics, spitting distance from the equator, believe it or not. (Damp mid December, grey skies like over the cricket fields in England.) White guy, journalist or writer something or other taking bread from his hands; taking his finely diced shallots into his mouth with his fingers. Never tiring of the fare, invariably the same order night after night. There was a McDonalds in the near mall and KFC the one over the canal, queues at both, weekends in particular. Yet this chap preferred the bread he had shaped from his dough, raw onion and two plain sambal. Staying at one of the hotels nearby not short of a shekel; knew some Hindi. Early on picked him as a Paki and took his plate and glass out back before paying. Strange bird. (Difficult to counteract the drones of course for all             
     
                                                                                         Johor Bahru, Malaysia Dec2016