The infamous Khao San Road. You'd think it's impossible to feel lonely in the bustling and frenetic streets of this city. Yet it always finds a way. Seeping through the crevices of street food stalls, neon lights, electronic dance music, superficial conversations and cheap booze. Reminding you, as you sip the beer, of the bitter. Plath says, because wherever I sat—on the deck of a ship or at a street café in Paris or Bangkok—I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air.