No man's land

There is a strip of sand a few metres long on the banks of the River Moei which belongs to no-one, neither Burma nor Thailand. The two countries are connected by a bridge which, ironically, is called Friendship Bridge: a mass of cement which in fact has very little to do with friendship. Hundreds of refugees live on this piece of no-man’s land, passing their time getting what little pleasure they can from watching a cock fight or from the satisfaction of selling a few crabs they have caught in the river. They never cross the border. 
The immigration office, which looks like something from a 1930s fi lm, grants daily visas for those who find work in Thailand. A few hours to breathe and then at 6 in the afternoon back to your prison with the invisible bars and maybe, because of those few hours of freedom, even more difficult to bear.

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