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Dogs chasing horses through the streets of Nyaung Shwe.
Dogs chasing dogs.
Dogs eating dog.
In the night and in daytime.
Howling, growling, baring their teeth, in their muzzles of a deathless veteran, malformed by scars to a more grotesque mask of a street fighter.
And all that in front of a monastery.
It´s a dog´s rule.

French girl worried and thinking about try to push them back in their corners.
Standing in the backyard of the guesthouse, opposite to the monastery, behind an iron gate, clenching the bars again and again, struggling with her minds. – On her gravestone written in dog bones “Killed in action”. Stupid kind of a naive one.
It´s not your pretty pinky sweet hair ribboned dog of a dog at home, bitch. It´s a dog!
Don´t blame her for her simply-hearted attitude, but what did she expect, frolicking dogs on green-wide fields, kissing cats and snatching butterflies, fluttering out of their polished asses back to life? And i am sure she had a great chicken pork whatever for dinner afterwards.
Or am i just blunted dick. Or is it because she is french. Or do dogs always eat dogs.