inee

Once upon a time Inee was a weaver in Kampot.

She wove cotton and studied English at PTC, a training center. She met Orphan. He was passing though. He helped her with educational resources.

He passed through years later. They met again. They were estatic to see each other. 

She'd graduated from PTC and worked at a real estate company.

I study electricity at a local university, she said. I teach Khmer to foreigners. My plan is to attend university this fall. I will study to be an accountant and a teacher.

Great, said Orphan, I am so pleased. You're doing fantastic. Realize your dreams.

Bliss

Greetings,

Nature is what you can be. Culture is what you are.

Two French women arrived at the Blissful Guesthouse in Kampot. Kampot is famous for pepper, old French colonial buildings along a river flowing to the sea and packs of roving wild vicious dogs, mongrels and starving, desperate canines.

One said, "Hello." A traveler in the shade of waving sunsplashed ferns said, "Welcome to paradise."

"Is this paradise?"

"Paradise is wherever you are."

One woman with a cloud of white hair smiled and said, "You give us a great power."

"You already have the power. You are a light warrior."

"We can talk about that later." 

"I am a now, not a later."

They went to reception. There were no rooms available. They wheeled their bags away, through the sand of time discussing life's vagaries in fluent French, laughing at the absurdity of it all with innate existential wisdom.

Metta.