THERE AND THEN

Sawasdee ka,

Sawasdee ka

Sawasdee ka!

Good morning, good morning, good morning!

It’s a new day in Chiang Mai.

I lie awake under my canopy, and listen to the sounds of the morning. Though early, dawn has long since broken. Outside, dogs bark, cockerels crow, I hear people walking past my room, and the smells of food being prepared. Amongst it all is the familiar sound of sweeping.

That’s bound to be Sambat.

I’m showered, dressed and out the house in no time, not forgetting the mozzy repellent, which has become my constant companion these last 2 months. There is Sambat sweeping the fragrant blossoms from the yard and humming a tune. When he sees me his face lights up,

Sawasdee krab!

Can he do anything for me?

Am I happy?

And whether I was or not, now I am. Sambat’s genuine interest in my wellbeing has always made me feel safe and secure.

I head to the cafe and instead of walking through the main upper house that like all Lanna houses stand on stilts, I walk underneath. This area would traditionally have been used as a shaded working place, or space to house the animals, or even an outdoor family room. However here and today it serves as garages and a massive storage area for Rampat's business.

I love this cool and shady walk.

Only the residents use it.

It’s not exactly attractive, in fact to some, it’s an eyesore, but not to me. To me it’s a fantastical place, an Aladdin’s cave with: well stuff.

Lots of stuff,

Curious stuff,

Stuff that is beautiful,

Stuff that I know is useful but I have no idea what for.

I often veer off this path to consider this stuff and an object will catch my eye.

9 times out of 10 it will be made of bamboo or rattan but I may make note of it, or photograph it and then perhaps return later to draw it. I never go anywhere without a camera and sketchbook.

After a few quick perusals I carry on walking, past Nings private steps and as I do so, I spy her through the floorboards.

She has obviously heard me.

Dawn! Sawasdee ka!

I double back and take the first few steps up her ladder in order to pop my head over the entrance. Ning, together with 3 other ladies are sitting at her toddler height table. She has her appointment book out in front of her and a pile of accounts. Ning is ALWAYS busy; in fact she thrives on industry. She is Ramopat's right hand and is an organizational queen, heading all the soirees, educational and celebratory functions here. And I promise you that that is no mean feet.

Monfai, Cultural Centre is a mecca for Thai people, It is THE venue to be married in or hold a ceremony and hence Ning will very often oversee 2 weddings in a day and also have a function occurring in a smaller celebration house near the café…all simultaneously The functions include music and food, but more about that later.

Ning meanwhile effortlessly multitasks, She works her accounts, answers the phone constantly and chats to the ladies. Most of the time I don’t understand what she says. She is of course speaking Thai, but her tone is friendly. Don’t get me wrong she doesn’t suffer fools and sometimes can seem abrupt or short but over the weeks I have grown to love and respect this amazing woman. Ning, who, initially intimidated and scared me half to death is a wonderfully kind and thoughtful lady and it shows. Her employees are drawn to her, revel in her vivacity for life, her knowledge and her industry. Today her companions make themselves busy, by sewing and embroidering fabulous silk garments for an upcoming wedding and talking quietly together.

Ning smiles down at me, her beautiful olive skinned face is almost Tibetan in structure. I can’t believe that we are of similar age. She looks younger 30 or there-abouts.

Where do you go? She asks. Have you had breakfast?

I tell her that I’m on my way now, but I would very much like to see her later and if there is anything I can do to help her then let me know.

I say my hellos to the other ladies, Nong, one of her companions asks me if we can speak English later and I grin my agreement.

I take up my path once more, reach the front of the house and pass through a curtain ofhanging threads from the banyan tree. Before a wedding, Ning will trim these threads to just below waist height and then tie to the ends, sweetly scented white flowers, Meanwhile on the threshold floor she will also place orange and purple flowers in welcome. Today there is at least one wedding. The flowers are fresh and already in place. I breathe in their heady scent and carry on across the lane to the entrance complex of Monfai.

In front of me is the most welcoming car park you could ever imagine, (if car parks could be welcoming,) with banyan trees, seating areas, a traditional Lanna style clothes shop and a multitude of appropriate antique tools/vehicles, strategically placed to look attractive but unplanned.

The car park is already half full. I hardly notice.

To my right, a full life sized sculpture of an elephant greets me. Made by Rampat's artist brother this piece is disturbingly real. A friend of mine had actually asked me, after touching it and walking around it several times, whether it was stuffed. No I’d said but I could understand her concern. The elephant, which I nicknamed cornily as Ned proclaimed the right side of the gate into a square.

Cross the threshold and you’re in a magical fairyland. 3 Lanna houses, a 2-two storied Lanna celebration building, a conference center, a café with bar stools, Lanna style shops, banana trees, stream, plants, antiques, cozy little places to sit, hammocks, rocking chairs, and countless parasols. At night this place is lit with warm yellow hues. The parasols will alter the light and cast orange and red shadows which enhance the nearby green foliage. But in the day, and at this moment, the warm Eastern sun creates radiance across the whole square that epitomizes tropical paradise, rustic charm, and romance.

The first person I see is Boy. Yes, that is his name. He beams at me, as always. I do believe that this is his default expression and he places his hands together in a prayer position, and bows. Sawasdee krab Oh, carrying my bamboo creation into the café square I smile and return the wai but laugh at his mischievous grin. Boy is the shy clown. It has taken him over six weeks to talk to me and yet he always made me feel welcome and almost runs if I ask him to do anything. Right now he has a broom in his hand and is midway through sweeping the fallen leaves. Beyond him there are dozens of people milling around the square. I guess there is a function on today. Luckily my spot at the café bar is free and I head towards it quickly before I lose it.

Good morning Dawn, how - are - you - today? Sabaidee ka,

I’m good thanks

Oh Would - you – like - something - to - drink?

Yes please, a coffee.

Weeks of “English lessons” have led us to this, – a morning ritual of how do you dos, wheres/hows/when.

And "Oh" is an extraordinarily good student. Each day his vocabulary increases, his grammar improves and we are now getting to the point where we actually have quite in depth conversations about anything and everything. For the most part I’m correcting pronunciation, teaching common phrases and providing him with new words.

Oh is just one of the café staff but like everyone here he multitasks and works wherever he is needed. Oh is probably the person I speak to most. Not only is he the best at English, but also he’s good company and we get on famously.

Egg in a banana leaf please.

Alongside Oh is Mod, (the cafe boss and Rampat's nephew,) and then there is Ad. They are all twenty something’s (but to my Western eyes much younger looking) super cool, and very handsome. Like all the staff here, they wear the Thai traditional dress. Mod, who is extremely tall for a Thai is often seen sporting John Lennon sunglasses, and a red checked turban; Ad, whose long hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, wears his tribal scarf in a headband style and fisherman’s pants belted with another brightly coloured scarf. Meanwhile Oh prefers, a bandana that neatens his somewhat unruly hair. I smile. I’ve become very fond of these young pirates who seem to be able to achieve anything together, sing, play instruments, build, draw. Together with Sumbat and a few others I have passed several enjoyable evenings in this square, listening to them sing and joke. I’ve watched them laugh, play with children, tackle projects of construction for themselves or Monfai. Nothing seems to stop their creativity.

Good Morning.

Ad had appeared from the kitchen. He’s busy this morning so I turn to see what all the activity is about. These Thais are definitely not going to a wedding; they are far too casually dressed. Suddenly the throng separates and I see the equipment. It’s a camera crew. I watch with frank curiosity. My first impression is that the actors are all sculpted to look like Westerners - hair, makeup, and clothes. I’m really sad about that. The Thais are so very stylish and instinctively wear clothes that suit them. Here they are trying to be something that they can’t be further from.

I turn back to the bar, mildly irritated.

What are they filming?

Oh shrugs, his disinterest is plain. Its old hat. A very convoluted conversation ensues, mainly because of the language barrier, but it turns out that they had had a Hollywood production crew out at the beginning of the year.

Kung Fu, Ad grins and gives me a mock demo.

Anyone famous? They both shrug.

Ad reiterates his Kung Fu line, uncannily sounding like Jackie Chan, and tells me the name of the film. His pronunciation defeats me No, really? Russell Crow? They shrug their shoulders again. I become aware of being watched and look at the man in the corner of the bar. I’ve learnt to recognize that face. First, curiosity that a blond Westerner is here at Monfai and secondly the desire to practice ones English. I smile and greet him in Thai. We converse for the next ten minutes while I wait for my breakfast but politely leaves me alone to eat.

The camera crew is abuzz. I chuckle to myself as I watch. How many Thais does it take to use a clapperboard? Well in this crew, three, one to write on it, one to hold it and one to shut it…. mad! I have sudden pang of homesickness as I think of filming with Grant earlier that year that Ed had come to join us and then I thought of the kids. I push the thoughts away quickly. I can’t afford to take to this right now.

I watch the little hives of people working, including the trio of clapper men and then realize that this is precisely what we have lost in the UK - community, a sharing of knowledge, companionship, a sense of belonging. I have watched the boys here, sitting on their haunches, huddled around, discussing a project, unpicking it, deferring to the expert in that craft. Learning from him.

One lad, who I never could pronounce his name, was building a guitar, from scratch! The instructions arrived on one sheet and were all in English, which he HAD to Google translate. I have to point out that there was nothing Ikea about this venture. Beginning with just three blocks of wood, which he would eventually need to get sliced into sheets, he had just completed a precise mold to stretch the body into shape. In the preceding weeks I had watched the boys regularly pore over that project and admit that I often felt

..exclusion?

Isolation?

Envy,

Loss and moreI

wanted to belong too!

Breakfast completed I say my goodbyes and retrace my steps. This time I’m no longer alone in my carport of stuff. Six builders are reconstructing part of the storage area to make way for some artist studios and toilets. I recognize Moon, my very serious bamboo teacher and his accomplice. Moon deliberately doesn’t catch my eye. Hmmmm, I find him tough to fathom. He’s much older, late 60s perhaps, tiny but his posture reveals a man who has obviously labored hard all his life and his body is older than his years. I’ve seen him smile only twice. When he does, it’s astonishing how it alters him, he becomes youthful again, but for the most part he is like today, expressionless, dogged.

I notice the guitar maker and we exchange greetings. He’s another shy boy but we broke the ice when Rampat asked him to help me in my upcoming exhibition.

Show me the lanterns later? I whisper to him and he grins and nods enthusiastically.

I’m almost back to my room when I spy her...

Sawasdee ka, Good morning Rampat!!!

Rampat is my hostess and probably the most extraordinary women I have ever met. Seamlessly, this attractive, tiny, lady has created a business empire that would be the envy of many in the west, And yet she hasn’t achieved her success through ruthlessness and greed as we see too all often at home, but through sheer hard work, love, respect and benevolence. Known to all, except her closest friends and family, as the “teacher” and not just “mother” (which is the respectful name for a woman who is senior to you,) she is a pillar of the community, the woman who makes things happen, a mother, a sister, an ally, a business woman…. and to me… a friend, a role model and a sage. I love this woman. Nothing I ask of her is too much trouble. She is fun, wise, clever and terrifically organized. She supports all her family and has provided each with a home and a business in their own right,

she employs 36 permanent staff and over 100 casual labor,

she is a successful dress designer,

teacher and business guru

and she started from scratch with no money and no home.

What an inspiration!

Today all but a few kowtow her. To be with her was like being with royalty. People beg, bow and scrape and she wields her special craft of direction and management with joy.

You are like Queen! I’d say and she’d smile mischievously.

But you have a good husband she would say, a little sadly.

And I would reply that no man was strong enough for her.

And she would nod with understanding and sad resignation.

Some of my favourite days here at Monfai have been spent in this shady spot outside my room, working, I, with paper, glue and a weird plastic doll, Rampat with her sewing. We’d chat about life, Hers, Mine, - At least my other one, which seems so distant and unreal right now. She”d organizes national projects, I’d listen to Wilky Collins’ Woman in White, -Two different women, from two different worlds who somehow gelled.

What do you do today? - I would like you to meet my friends Tha and Ba - They are artists. Rampat says.

Sounds fun.

Will Pat come? I return.

Pat is my other favourite person here and Rampat’s life long friend. Over ten years my senior they are beautiful, powerful women. Next to these two, I feel like an oversized stuffed rhinoceros and often struggled with my visual self-esteem. While Rampat is small and delicate, Pat is comparatively tall and terribly elegant.

No, she is at her hotel. She is very busy today.

I’m sorry to hear that. Pats’ English is excellent and I love her company. She instinctively knows what I’m interested in and regales me with wonderful stories of Thai history, myth, and superstations and furnishes me with tales of her and Rampat’s youth. When Rampat’s mum died, she explained a little of the old woman’s achievements, how the funeral ceremony worked, and even, despite her sorrow, some of the mishaps that had occurred at previous funerals, for example when the wrong body was removed from the morgue.

Rampat and I arrange to meet later that day and part ways.

My plan is to spend most of today making stuff but everything I do here I consider part of my work. How can I make comment on this place without first hand research? Simple things like going to the supermarket and markets to see the food and sample it, visiting the temples, talking to anyone and everyone, including a female nun,

an artist who was the first woman to paint temple murals,

a Burmese refugee,

a world leading environmental scientist,

an archeologist who had just

discovered a lost city

and even a woman

who runs an anti-sex trafficking network;

craftsmen,

prostitutes,

businessmen,

labourers,

artists who work in the ghetto.

They have fuelled my imagination and given me a more 3 dimensional view of this world.

And not all those experiences were good. I had times where simple tasks seemed impossible. In the early days just going into the city was one of those. The Monfai ambassador had been less than forthcoming about showing me the ropes. So I’d ventured into Chiang Mai alone by pushbike only to discover the city had a one-way system and that the way back required me to ride several miles around the city in the opposite direction to the one I wanted to do. It was 40’C and 80% humidity! Half way around, a lost, tired and hot English woman chanced on a café with an American owner. He saw my distress and kindly sat me down and gave me a drink. We spent a couple of hours chatting about Thailand and life here. Later, a more confident Dawn, resumed her Chiang Mai adventure. I even tackled the city ‘s Super High Way on a pushbike for some miles (armed this time with a map and directions home) and returned with the distinct feeling that I had truly met another challenge and won.

Later this morning, when my fingers are bamboo sore, I pop in to see Ning. She is sitting on the floor of the main house with the ladies making flower decorations.

Can I help?

She nods her approval but tells me I need to dress first. Everyone who works here, is expected to dress in traditional clothes, me included. So I head across the landing to be kitted out in Thai serving clothes; a blue and cream cotton number, complete with turban.

Great. I feel ridiculous. A jolly great blond giant thing, that no more looks like a Thai serving girl as the dog would in similar costume.

I sigh at the reflection in the mirror.

Ah well!

I have been dressed at other times in more spectacular costumes. Monfai hire shop literally has hundreds of outfits. Some Australian students had been here last week and one of the activities had been to explore the history and culture of Thailand through dress with them as the characters and it had worked not only for them but me too. I had watched with avid fascination as the boys and girls had paraded their outfits for all the others to see, while the teacher related stories of kings, conflicts, and previous lives.

Hmm, How Thai do I look?

Throughout my residency I would try many of these outfits, mostly as a Monfai host. Twice, I was to don the silks of a Thai princess, once, to meet Edward at the airport and another, at my exhibition. Ning and Rampat’s daughter, made me feel as close to beautiful as I have ever felt in middle age and those evenings would be ones I would not easily forget. What can I do? Ning – flower arranging I ask and Ning patiently shows me how to make one of the centerpieces at a wedding ceremony. Forget flower arranging, as we know it; this exceeds anything we have at home. Three tiers of work make one piece and each unit is worked separately. A Styrofoam base is first lined with banana leaves. Thousands and thousands of blossoms are removed from their stems and pinned individually in a pattern onto the banana leaves while hundreds more banana leaves are bent and folded origami style and used as green blossoms for the sides. The three units are then placed on top of each other rather like an English wedding cake. An arrangement will take 2 or 3 practiced ladies approximately 3hrs. Ning will need several pieces for a wedding and guess what, they only last 3 days!

I spend an enjoyable hour with the ladies. They practice their English, I a few words of Thai and in between we talk about hobbies, children, men, clothes and all the things that unite women everywhere. The conversations are simplistic due to the language barriers, but no less enjoyable. The Thais are fascinated by my age. I will later find out that this is not just for aesthetic reasons but because Thais need to know how to properly greet each other and show their respect.Educated people and persons with a business have earned status, while those with the greatest years have acquired respect due to life skills. A Westerner is hard for them to age and for that reason I’m asked.

Often.

Will you come to the wedding tonight? Da, one of the ladies, asks me.

I decide that I would. I haven’t been for sometime and always enjoy it, especially now that I’m used to the guests staring. I now know that these looks are welcoming but in the early days I wasn’t so sure and felt like an uninvited gatecrasher to a families special day.

The weddings at Monfai are a lavish affair. They are held in the center of the main house, an area that resembles a Roman Villa, in the fact that an uncovered square is surrounded by covered buildings. On three sides there are large long rooms that open out into the center, furnished with tables and comfortable chairs, The fourth side has a stage with beautiful blinggy sculptures necessary for a Thai Buddhist wedding. One of the side rooms leads to a terrace balcony where the “mothers” serve food, Lanna market style. They sit within a circle of bamboo baskets serving food from trays that are lined with banana leaves. Much of the food is cooked while you wait and served in banana leaf boats; buffet style. For those who wish to have food served to them, countless waiters dressed in traditional serving clothes will bring trays and trays of food to your table. Extra tables are set up in front of the covered wings. The tables are low and seating is on cushions placed on the floor.

I got better at sitting on the floor dressed in Thai clothes. The first time was at a Buddhist festival dinner and I stood up at the end of the meal, my skirt didn’t. Thai skirts are one size fits all. They are literally a tube of fabric folded on one side and belted with a silver chain. I had accidentally stood on my hem; Dawn and skirt had parted company. To my absolute horror I was in the middle of the eating area, facing rows of seated monks, unable to subtly (or even unsubtly) re-clothe my bottom half. I sat crouched-over trying to hide my embarrassing attire. My host, Shukit, seemed totally unaware of the situation. He patiently stood for some minutes, waiting for me to join him until of course I explained my predicament. He left me without a word! He was gone for what seemed like eternity. What do I do now? I was the only guest left sitting. The remaining tables had all been removed and people were now milling around the edges. I was desperate. Finally, Shukit returned with a lady in toe. I am blonde, a foot higher than most of the men (and so, somewhat conspicuous,) and now to add insult to injury a complete stranger was about to redress me in the middle of a smart dinner and monks as my audience. I was mortified.

I would say that up to 400 guests could enjoy Monfai hospitality in a single function. A wedding is conducted by one of the few qualified officiates, while a master (or in our case, mistress) of ceremonies recites stories, and customs at each stage. This is all done in Thai of course but I became quite friendly with mistress of ceremonies over the weeks and she would interpret parts of the vows and symbolic gestures into English. The traditional blessing goes something like this:

The miracle of love is like the miracle of a flower; it thrives upon the sunshine of a smile...

Its roots are secured in the memories of yesterday and its petals breathe the promise of joy-filled tomorrows.

To be loved is to know happiness and contentment.

To give love is to know the joy of sharing oneself.

It is through the miracle of love that we discover the fullness of life.

Beautiful huh?

The ceremony is followed by traditional entertainments including my favourite, the Thai victory drums. These are played with hands, elbows, feet and head in a vigorous display ofmusic, dance and gymnastics (The drummer, in reality is nothing like the role he plays and I cant help but smile as I watch him. Here on stage he is the powerful, aggressive, athlete, a Conan, wearing white ceremonial pants and no shirt. But 20 minutes before he would have arrived, straight from Uni in his pimped car, parked outside my room, pop music blasting, fag in hand and a mobile attached to his ear. He is dressed in everso tight clothes. His voice is noticeably effeminate, his walk, visibly girlish and camp……..I decide to make a few calls before I dress for the wedding.

As I head to my room I catch site of my friend. He bows and we exchange greetings.

Can I help you Dawn?

Yes Sumbat. Can you take me to see Gaynor tomorrow? He’s pleased.

Will you ask Rampat? He asks

Its ok, she says its fine.

And he beams. Like me he connects Gaynor with peace, joy and nature.

Sambat nearly always drives me these days; however, he has only driven to Gaynor’s once before. On that day Gaynor had arranged for a friend to take of us trekking in the mountains. It was too far to return to Monfai in-between trips; so unbeknownst to me Sumbat had planned to wait in the car.

You must come! – I’d said

I was delighted to see his utter astonishment at being invited

If you would like to?

And he had needed no more persuasion.

In return he’d taken it upon himself to be my guardian, making sure that he helped me across ditches, that branches were always pulled back and to make sure that I never slipped We’d finished the day bareback riding on an elephant and Sumbat was so excited that his childish laughter was all the payment I could have ask for.

However to him, our day trip meant much, much more and as a result my happiness now is of greater importance and how he can make it so has become his responsibility.

It’s actually lovely. I have a Thai friend who thinks I’m the bees knees, for no other reason than to be invited on a walk!

Gaynor, by the way, is a journalist and old college pal of mine. Living in an untouched paradise, deep in the forests of the surrounding mountains, she is a wondrous beautiful, generous creature, who is not just a writer but a composer of words.

She is the friend that makes you feel like a diamond and the woman who has been wronged too many times and yet forgives everything,

Dear, lovely Gaynor,

My friend.

When things have been difficult for me,

Gaynor, has appeared,

riding her scooter,

a pink helmeted fairy godmother to the rescue.

She has picked me up,

dusted me down, waved her magic

and then

let me go.

let me go.

She is the one friend that will come to my exhibition in a few weeks time that has some insight into my work. It is through her I have met trafficked girls, talked to refugees and discovered that paradise has its darker side. Our meetings have fuelled my productive mind causing it to spew out torrents of sculptural anarchy.

Will you be singing at the wedding tonight, Sumbat? I ask

He nods.

And I’m glad.

Sumbat is a great folk singer and in his 20 something’s had had a brush with Thai stardom. He often dons his guitar and sings for me in the evenings with the café lads. Thai folk songs are very melodic and are rather like a blend of Indie and country and western. It’s beautiful to listen to, even when you don’t understand the words. And you don’t need to know. You can hear the story in the melody. They are of course, the cliché, boy meets girl, something bad happens, sad ending. I will soon feel like a charector in one of those songs. On my last night here,

the night of my exhibition,

when Ed had at last come,

we will sit in the square, till the early hours,

me, Ed, Rampat, and Pat

and we’ll listen to the boys and their guitars,

sing

the campfire illuminating their now familiar faces.

It would be a sad evening for me. It would be a joining of new and old friends, in a bittersweet farewell.

HERE AND NOW

Back home, I occasionally receive news on Facebook from Gaynor in the mountains, or Ne-Na, my art residency or from the café boys at Monfai.

New photos arrived yesterday.

There you were.

Oh

Ad

Mod

Sumbat

My heart breaks. You all look the same, so happy.

Had you been to a concert in the city?

Weeks and months later, I need to ask;

Do you miss me Monfai?

I know, I know.

Why would you?

Life is the same for you.

You’re there too Rampat! You look wonderful. You’re talking to a Westerner – a Falang. Is that the Australian artist you were expecting?

Monfai, Monfai

You breathed in, squeeze up, and made me room

….. you let me in ….at least for a short time, and then when I left, exhaled and filled the gap .

Life is the same for you.

But it’s not for me. Monfai

Leaving was difficult

A wrench

I wasn’t ready

It was too, too soon

I feel like I’ve left part of me behind.

Where is the girl that went to Monfai?

I want her back

Yes?

No

I miss you Monfai

And then

And then, my heart sores

There you are again Rampat

And behind you are my sculptures!

You’ve kept them!

They look as good as new despite their fragility. You honour me

HERE AND NOW

Back home, I occasionally receive news on Facebook from Gaynor in the mountains, or Ne-Na, my art residency or from the café boys at Monfai.

New photos arrived yesterday.

There you were.

Oh

Ad

Mod

Sumbat

My heart breaks. You all look the same, so happy.

Had you been to a concert in the city?

Weeks and months later, I need to ask;

Do you miss me Monfai?

I know, I know.

Why would you?

Life is the same for you.

You’re there too Rampat! You look wonderful. You’re talking to a Westerner – a Falang. Is that the Australian artist you were expecting?

Monfai, Monfai

You breathed in, squeeze up, and made me room

….. you let me in ….at least for a short time, and then when I left, exhaled and filled the gap .

Life is the same for you.

But it’s not for me. Monfai

Leaving was difficult

A wrench

I wasn’t ready

It was too, too soon

I feel like I’ve left part of me behind.

Where is the girl that went to Monfai?

I want her back

Yes?

No

I miss you Monfai

And then

And then, my heart sores

There you are again Rampat

And behind you are my sculptures!

You’ve kept them!

They look as good as new despite their fragility. You honour me

Kop Kun Ka Rampat

Kop Kun Ka

Laa-gàwn kâ Monfai

Goodbye