1:30 am, I’m closing my laptop, preparing to sleep, enjoying the silence of Dhaka’s nights.
Such a rare moment, I tell to myself.
« Rare », I couldn’t have chosen a better word. Because you sure know that five minutes later, a truck full of sand/gravel/dead bodies will park in front of the next in-construction-building (you always have one less than 100 meters from your place in Dhaka, I myself have 3 of those in a 50 meters circle from mine, lucky boy I am). And then the truck will wake up an army of sleepless workers and they’ll start to empty the truck and do whatever you have to do when you’re building a 5 storey building. At 1:30 am.
Only once empty will the truck leave the place in a concert of horn and whistles. In what purpose I don’t know, there’s no one on the street.
O, ye old continent, with your rules and your work legislations and your strikes and everything, I envy you!
Silence is priceless here.
