just chickens. nasty little malnourished vietnamese chickens, all packed into one large bamboo basket, stepping all over eachother, legs and wings and beaks sticking out through the gaps in the wicker in a way that struck me as obscene and then funny too.

"even the chickens are skinny and angry." i thought to myself

it reminded me of catching blue crabs as a kid. if i were to leave all of the crabs i caught in a bucket together, invariably i would come back to the bucket to find that all of the crabs aside from the biggest crab had had their claws ripped out at the socket. the largest one always seemed to hold on to one of the disembodied claws that he had ripped off too, waving it and hitting the other crabs with it. at the time, i just assumed that this was just another wierd example of crab psychology, along with their love of chicken necks. now i know that this is because crabs are related to spiders, which come from hell.

a neatly stacked row of chicken heads and a mound of purple and red offal sat next to a massive cleaver on the cutting stump next to the chicken basket. the plump, happy vietnamese chicken-monger woman waved at us, with fat bloody fingers.

"delici-"

an army jeep pulled up quickly to my right, almost hitting becca, who seemed to be fascinated by the rest of the chaos of the dalat market, and didnt notice. a 30 something man in a ridiculous uniform hopped out and started yelling at a lady selling prawns directly in front of me. the lady just looked at him, and two men hopped out of the back and began loading her prawns into the jeep.

it reminded me of catering in college, when we used to load prawns into the ..

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