This past weekend: Khmer BBQ dinners. Brunch at Rachel's. Somewhat painful hour-long foot massages. Cambodia International Film Festival crashing. Dancing barefoot at Meta House to the tunes of the Phnom Penh Hippie Orchestra (gypsy music love). Late dinner conversations and even later after-dinner strolls in quiet, darkened streets. Birthday shenanigans. Farewells. Prolonged hugs. Restrained tears.
I hate that life in this city necessarily comes with so many goodbyes.
And with each farewell comes promises of next meetings, of visits. And gifts of misfit items from homes, evidence of their daily existence here: wayward pots and pans, dishes, books, so many books, food, moto helmets. In the end, a bit of their life is folded into mine. So goes the cycle.
I am spent. It is only Tuesday afternoon. The rain outside is deafening; it muffles everything.
Pictures later. Just thoughts for now.
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