Groups of ladies plied the waterfront with conversation, walks and tai chi. Men played with shuttle cocks and repeated jumping exercises. Fathers wrapped in sarongs carried and cooed to their babies. Women smoked the sky with their boiling breakfast pots and chopped the air with their ams. Spit-polished children emerged in school uniforms.
And I hope, wish, want good things for Cambodia, for the naked children playing in my street, for the animated daughter at my laundry, heading off to kindergarten. Children are everywhere; the population is so young. It’s hard not to think about their future.