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When I went to this little village of Cambodia, Stung Temai, I first noticed the pretty landscapes. Warm, grey fields of cows and silence. And then, I met her. She was wearing a piece of cloth, a veil they say! At first, that was all I noticed. May be the second time too, but as she began to invite me into her house, her world, her stories… I began to notice more of her than the piece of cloth, and I began to notice more of the piece of cloth.

The veil was turning into her skin, a skin she was comfortable with, a skin that was almost her name, a skin turning her into a shape.

She spoke about her dreams of finding herself somewhere within. I felt like we have met before, here somewhere finding ourselves, being and not being the same. The village of Stung Temai, where she lives, she keeps her sky blue, she makes room for her own clouds..
Where you sense the rain, and you wait…

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