elements of silence said farewell
a series of eyes investigated decompression
while swallowing fresh yogurt with peach slices
near afternoon's languishing empty promises
intent on discovering
explanations have to end somewhere
in her village she threaded new beginnings
her loom waited for the pressure, the tightness
between notes
14-16 April
Wiki data.
Maha Songkran, derived from Sanskrit Maha Sankranti, is the name of the first day of the new year celebration. It is the ending of the year and the beginning of a new one. People dress up and light candles and burn incense sticks at shrines, where the members of each family pay homage to offer thanks for the Buddha's teachings by bowing, kneeling and prostrating themselves three times before his image. For good luck people wash their face with holy water in the morning, their chests at noon, and their feet in the evening before they go to bed.
Virak Wanabat is the name of the second day of the new year celebration. People contribute charity to the less fortunate by helping the poor, servants, homeless, and low-income families. Families attend a dedication ceremony to their ancestors at the monastery.
Tngay Leang Saka is the name of the third day of the new year celebration. Buddhists cleanse the Buddha statues and their elders with perfumed water. Bathing the Buddha images is the symbol that water will be needed for all kinds of plants and lives. It is also thought to be a kind deed that will bring longevity, good luck, happiness and prosperity in life. By bathing their grandparents and parents, children can obtain from them best wishes and good advice for the future.
A Cambodian woman waits for alms in a market.
then what happened in the plotless point, asked elf.
a young smiling cambodian man without hands smoked a cigarette.
he held it between stubs.
his rolling cart held genocide books and angkor aspara dancers.
he left a fractured conversation with a friend in expansive green shade near a brown river.
hi mister, want to buy a book? a dancer? cheap. good morning price. brings luck.
no thank you. reading history is destined for marvelous suffering memory.
dancers live forever, he said, dancing to the sea. waves turned a page.
yes, said orphan, let's fly away.
elf agreed, after a month playing with spontaneous five-year young experts.
where shall we go?
it's a small planet.
how about cambodia, we know it well.
ok. 9 months in laos learning, laughing, loving, sharing was a joy.
on fool's day they arrived in siem reap. a hustler showed up. i am poor. i need money for my family.
i remember this story, said elf.
it's an old one, said orphan.
let's go see friends.
they walked into a gritty world, surrounded by empty glass and brass hotels.
children scavaged trash.
they passed a one legged man on crutches. what happened to him, asked elf.
he stepped on a land mine while planting rice.
She pedals her New Star bike into Siem Reap for iced coffee. It's cold and delicious. Men play chess slapping wooden pieces, gesticulating at high decibels.
Kick boxers on a plasma screen pummel each other with knees and gloves and violent fury to the endless delight of invisible millions with displaced latent aggression after a recent genocide.
WHAM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM! YES!
Saturday and Sunday afternoons are filled with masses of boys and men in cafes screaming at a television.
KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM!
Idle men sit in shaded empty white tourist vans waiting for bodies brushing dust.
Looking busy is fun.
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