We arrive into Kuala Lumpur by night train. Ahead of us a different train, blue with a Wild West chimney stack, is blocking our arrival, unloading first. Then once emptied of passengers, our own train finally pulls forward, gently hits the dusty posts of the railway bumper.
We step down onto the tracks. A couple, with baby, step down behind us. The young woman unpacks a well-worn suitcase, also from a bygone era, misty camera view of a small case neatly packed on muslin sheets.
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I see the couple again later on a hotel rooftop . We are looking out at a fabulous view of minarets, mosques, gleaming white and yellow buildings. The couple lean over the balcony, the baby cushioned in mother’s tent like dress. Look out at the view, they say to their baby.
A butterfly like creature the size of a human head with a single purple wing with soft felt curves covering its black insect body lands on me. I pick it off, pinching it gently by the single wing and throw it, but it keeps returning. I pick it up by the wing again, it’s black stick legs flailing in the air. I throw it again, this time towards Lizzie. Stop it! she says. I duck under the wicker table. The butterfly returns and Lizzie pushes me further under the table. My head gets stuck between its wicker legs. Help me, I say. But they don’t.
