The Alain de Botton of Dili

When in need of some retail therapy in Dili, we head to Halilaran, a market towards the hills that sells everything from seaweed to tobacco to backpacks. This local Westfield, sans air con and piped music, has an extensive secondhand clothing section.

My local Westfield

I always start off looking for clothes but invariably get distracted by the smorgasboard of philosophies on display in the form of T-shirts. It seems that the T-shirt, often overlooked in Australia, is the perfect vehicle for sharing philosophical thought with the masses – portable, washable, and regularly on display for public consumption.

I feel the calling to become the Alain de Botton of Dili’s clothing markets, although right now I can’t seem to make much sense of what I’m finding. They range from lovely sentiments (which may or may not make sense): 

(I feel like if I thought about this one for long enough I might attain nirvana)

To delightful non-sequiturs:

To the mildly disturbing/possibly psychotic:

(extra points for use of punctuation) 

There are many things in your HEART you can never tell to another person. 

They are you, your private joys and sorrows, 

AND YOU CAN NEVER TELL THEM. 

You cheapen yourself, 

THE INSIDE OF YOURSELF, 

when you tell them.

By the time we get out of Halilaran market, I always feel dazed, confused and on the brink of a major philosophical discovery. Perhaps after 10 more months in Timor-Leste I’ll be able to understand the hidden meanings of these t-shirts and translate them into erudite and witty insights, to be spoken in a posh English accent.