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Michelle Yeoh has become embedded in the polyester pile of the northbound services carpet near Bangkok, specifically in a three-metre section between the toilets and the restaurant. The patterns there now display, unmistakably, sequences from her most celebrated choreography: the distinctive angular sweeps, the precision footwork, the way fabric moves when caught in motion. She has been attempting to extract these sequences since Thursday.

Yes, the carpet will need replacement. No, she cannot simply leave it there. The sequences are hers—they represent months of rehearsal, timing, absolute control—and they are visible to anyone who looks closely enough at the weave. She has addressed concerns from the services management: the stall owners have been cooperative, though the satay vendor notes she now examines the carpet during his peak service hours. She cannot help it.

Her current method involves careful, patient separation of individual threads, which she works through in sequence, following the choreography frame by frame as it loops through the weave. Progress is slow. She has completed approximately eleven per cent of the first combat sequence and expects to reach the double-kick transition by next Thursday. She works at night, after the carpet is quietest, kneeling with tweezers and a small lamp.