I am in Siem Reap, Cambodia, standing outside my small house in the countryside. The ever-present warm breeze blows over me and chickens scurry through the long, dry grass. Tall palm trees shade a dusty path that leads to the neighbour’s small, ramshackle house.
All appears normal.
Then suddenly, I hear a little boy screaming. I turn and see my six-year-old neighbour tearing across the dusty path ahead of me, his father running after him. The man has something metal in his hand and hurls it at the little boy.
