I never realized that I have to labor long and hard for a loaf of bread. That was the idea after all when Mariam tried to motivate me out of melancholy - take a walk to the nearest deli by the neighborhood shopping center. When she ended up with a new pair of shoes on our journey for bread, I didn't feel particularly clever. She is a manic for shoes, nothing surreptitious about it. If reincarnation is to be believed, I am sure that Mariam has to be the only one on earth to be reincarnated from the soul of a living person - Imelda Marcos! At Charles And Keith, Mariam would have easily traded her soul for a sole.

About this neighborhood shopping center, it has got to be one of the great cultural plateaus of the world - one of the really urbane communities in the country - one of the truly cosmopolitan places and for many, many years, it always has had a warm welcome for human beings all over the world. It is probably the only city in the world where the natives are never more abroad than when they are at home.

This part of the neighborhood is littered with about five million Chinese workers, three million Bangladeshis, another three million from Myanmar and a combined total of approximately four million Filipinos, Indon and Sri Lankan maids. There was hardly enough room to navigate oneself out of the chaos on a Saturday night. I look back and see how hard they worked and how poor they were, and how desperately anxious they were to succeed, and all I can remember is how sick I am.

For me, there is only one route of escape from all these mad pilgrims. The trick is what one emphasizes. We either make ourselves miserable or we make ourselves strong. The amount of energy is the same. On that insane night, I was actually prepared to share my loaf of bread with all the 15 million foreign agents that represent our labour industries.

Shopping is never the longest lasting love affair of my life; and my issue last Saturday night was more than just having to co-exist. Having to co-exist is one thing but being molested made me feel so dirty. By reason of my clear eyes and unjaded heart, I only live by the two women in my life in what I feel is the life blood of my heart and the heart beat of my life. When my modesty was compromised by a woman that I know not, I felt like a whore.

At Charles And Keith, Mariam made herself the official tester of all the shoes that come in her size. Although my heart has reasons that reason does not understand, what my world really needs is more love and less shoes. Hands on hip, I stood there watching her redecorating the shop's display. It wasn't long after that I felt a nudge against my arm. Something fleshy, something bouncy; yet firm. As I turned to look, there was this salesgirl that walked passed me and flashed a wry grin on her face. I have reason to believe that it was deliberate, so I told Mariam "That girl just rubbed her boobs against me." Was she angry, was she mad, was she in a fit of fury? Nope!! She simply turned to look at the girl, then smiled at me, and then asked the salesgirl in her attendance "Do you have size 5 for this pair?" I knew too well then that I cannot expect much from a woman that easily could trade her soul for a sole. Not long after, again I was grazed upon by something fleshy, something bouncy; yet again; firm. I actually forgot that breast comes in pair, and I should have anticipated the second coming. She's enormous in that department though; and if you know anything about the DOME Of Rock in Jurusalem, you'll probably be able to imagine what I am talking about.

Half angered by the fact that Mariam finds the incident amusing, I was left protesting all the way back home. She got her size 5 at the expense of my modesty; and I got a 'D' cup against my will. The fact that the girl has the look that didn't leave much to thrill my imagination, I felt like a whore, I felt violated, it felt dirty. I could have sworn that I was mentally raped, but Mariam still thinks that I made too much of a galore over the incident. Never mind that she called me a 'grumpus' - a sobriquet that I have long lived to earn, but only I know that I am scarred for life.