Who knew that asphalt could be a tender touch,
that this patient, old-friend town of mine
would roll out padding and take me easy,
Report one from Phnom Penh. The first 3 days.
I could see there were islands of moments, spaces, commerce and friendliness in that unrelenting march forward. These islands might permit a question. They might yield an answer, and we might correct course, relax a bit, even smile—foreign as that may seem. Once we had that map, we knew how to ask. We were lost with purpose.