In the daylight I see darkness. It dominates the things I see. My emotions run, run, run, rapid so rapidly. I see a history of sadness, still alive today leaching off the lives of the living; stealing the breath of little children; feeding off the helplessness left by the past.

I see slaves born into poverty and trapped in corruption. They are likely without even a bed to lay. They work every hour of every day. I cannot wake from this nightmare, but unlike those around me I can escape it.

Guilt overcomes me.

The long drawn notes of a violin haunt me as they mimic the cries of a tortured nation. Piano keys pounding confuse the beat of my own heart and muddle with the sounds of a firing gun. Silence is the grimmest of all, this the sound of death - the last breath and water lilies growing in a pond nearby.

"Please? A purchase? Just one dollar."

Beggars begging for a better life- a happiness they have never known. For them, this is but a delicate and distant dream.

Legs stolen by land mines; sleep lost to trauma; children born into the desolate dust and robbed of previous generations.

The dirt roads continue for many miles and my eyes plead for bright colors; my lungs cry for a fresh breath, they tire of hot thick polluted air hanging heavily about tiny particles of dust.

Like a lone tree in a vast and endless desert, my eyes find a single refuge of color. There is a large rectangle, similar to a patchwork quilt, laying on the gritty ground. Upon it dry hundreds and hundreds of red chilies, tightly sharing the very large green bed on which they lay.

I want to hold their hand. Mass graves lay all around me. I feel like my presence is an invasion of their right for quiet eternal sleep. I hope their souls feel the respect I offer and accept my prayers for their peace. Their skulls, so many skulls, are organized by age and gender and stacked high into the sky. This, a tribute and a reminder of a violent and melancholy past. Bones erupt from the earth. A jaw and teeth appear to chew upward through the ground and has been worn smooth from treading shoes. Cloth that once comforted delicate skin, made jagged to blindfold its owners and now merciless victims. Frayed and dirty it too emerges from the ground. Women and children were not exempt.

Saddens overwhelms all other emotions and helplessness accompanies it. I wish my experiences left me with a glimpse of hope for Cambodia. I searched faces for genuine smiles and found very few. I spoke to people who shared stories of corruption, poverty and struggle. Can this nation rise above? I would like to return in ten years time hopeful of progression and to find a few more smiles. The newest generation is the first of many not born into war. There, I believe, lies hope.