Michael and I were rounding the corner on this grove near the mountains in Gukeng when 5-6 of these farm ladies started calling to us. I turned and saw the lot of them in this nook of the orange grove, arranged like a family portrait, like a bouquet of sunflowers, each whose face was bonnet-ed by their floral scarf wrapped hats and smiling, all them holding big sized 7-11 Slurpees under a diffuse and sparkling tropical light.
They held the Slurpees up to me and said that they tasted good. I bet they did in this humidity and under those layers of flower prints, and with those fumaroles of respiration rolling off those fragrant groves. But as I got off my bike and fumbled for my camera, trying to chat with them at my back, trying to keep them in their positions, I turned around and they bashfully didn't want their picture taken. They wanted to take ours. Of course. We were their sight for sore eyes as much as they were ours.
