Neighbours

Just on the other side of the balcony, not five metres from where I am sitting, the Nepalese neighbours are making kissy sounds. They seem to enjoy drawing attention to themselves. There must be more than twenty of them--all males--living in one four-room double-story house. They work shifts at the nearby printing factory, moving around in intimidating packs. They all wear blue, round-collar shirts.

They also cut each other's hair. That's the only time I feel like laughing at them, because from a potentially 'armed-and-dangerous' male figure, they become obedient children, sitting down at the feet of their appointed hairdresser and waiting patiently till he finishes with the latest fashion. After which, they will proceed to inspect their locks in a mirror. And for some reason, they never fail to do all this outside, either on the balcony or downstairs, in full view of catty neighbours like me.

Now I just need to get a picture.