Night. The gentleman who unexpectedly every now and again gives them treats (rolls with nothing-like paste, soy milk with black sesame seeds, peanuts in coffee coating, carrot-unknown juice…) suddenly pokes Kitty in her shoulder.

The bus stops. Kitty R. and Sir Last get off. The bus leaves.

They are alone, bathed in the complete darkness. There is not even a shadow of life or memories of light. They are in the jungle and they can not see anything. So they take out the mosquito net from the rucksack, temporarily hang it and sit down to wait for the sun to rise. The sounds of nature keep them in a tropical tension.

In the end it becomes bright. Kitty R. and Sir Last now see the outlines of rocks, trees and crossroads. The dog greets them, so they follow him towards the previously booked house on stilts.

Khao Sok. The village that entirely consists of a pedestrian street where pizza and turistic agencies reign and of hidden paths leading to modest huts. Nothing intrusive, nothing invasive and nothing tiresome. Omnipresent peace with barely noticeable rhythm of the day. Kitty would like to believe that the vicnity of the jungle in which tigers, leopards, Malay bears, hornbills and elephants live, arouses this human peace and respect in Khao Sok. It is also possible that it is simply an old, good tropic that smears life functions.

Kitty R. and Sir Last are unattractive today*. They choose a walk without a ranger. Crowns of trees in the jungle are so high that the light reaches Kitty ‘hey down here’ fragmentarily. A single leaf falls to the ground so slowly as if it has the power to stop the time. Kitty R. and Sir Last are also quickly learning that when something more spiky falls from the sky it means: something-monkeys- somewhere.

Ficus, bamboos, palm trees, lianas. Buzzing, tumbles, creaking, animal laughter, hehehehe, truffles. Growing, decreasing, single or group. Even the silence is full of unknown to Kitty sounds. The senses are sharpened. Frenzy. Wildness!

And for a cooling- bath in the river. There are fish of various ornaments and forms, and colorful butterflies like from a fairy tale! Such exploration of the jungle. With all the respect.

In the morning, an echo carries a cosmic cry - it’s gibbons! There’s a steady buzz every day - cicadas! In front of the door to the hut, the creatures stare at Kitty and Sir Last - macaques! Every now and then something flies, colourful and a hand size - it’s butterflies! A black bird with a yellow belly hangs on the window bars and knocks on the glass - it’s time to get up!

Kitty R. and Sir Last explore Lake Cheo Larn. The so-called long tail boat belongs to S., who talks about the times before the dam, when his grandparents and parents lived here in the middle of the rainforest, surrounded by rocks. People to people dealt this fate. Paid, displaced, built a dam, flooded what was previously inhabited by communities hunting here for animals and living without civilization. And all that only 40 years ago.

Kitty R. hopes that animals can manage, because there is nothing nicer than to observe them quietly, without going too far with flip flops into their home (staying on the trail, which still cuts just a few out of several hundred kilometres of the jungle). Kitty R., within her whole heart, believes that nature here still manages the man, or at least fights against him sharply.

Is Kitty already part of mass tourism? Is walking around the jungle already a significant interference in all this? The butterfly effect (and those present here are the size of the hand)?

It seems that animals have a choice, they can hide in the remaining 170 square kilometres of the rainforest. However the word ‘hide’ brings sadness.

Kitty R. and Sir Last move further south. To an island. But that’s another story…

*unattractive – not interested in attractions