Children squealing with laughter,
with dusty faces and tattered clothes.
Babies cooing as they waddle,
with bare bottoms and bright eyes.
Rice being shucked and cleaned for sale.
Roosters crowing well into the late morning,
for those who might have overslept.
The almost piercing gaze of the little girl peering through the wire fence at me curiously as I type this blog.
If I lift my gaze to meet hers, or the others, they scamper away with squeals of joy.
The tweet of birds in the trees,
as if competing for loudest shrill.
The sounds of insects I’ve never heard before.
The rustling of leaves in the trees,
above the hammock where I lay.
The occasional splatter of rain on the dirt yard.
The vroom of scooters and small motorbikes,
ridden by 12 year old girls to school and 80 year old men to the rice fields alike (no license needed).
The rickety clank of tuk-tuks as they meander down gravel roads;
They look more like carriages with roofs here as they don ornate arm rests and curtains on the sides.
These are the sounds of my life this month. Simple, beautiful, Cambodian life.
