You show you care, you die.You show you fear, you die.You show nothing, maybe you live.

A man who doles out sweets, and slaps, with the same hand.

Inside my head I carry: my baby goat, my baby brother, my ama's face, our family's future. My bundle is light. My burden is heavy.

Long time I been on my own, but now really I'm alone. I survive the killing, the starving, all the hate of the Khmer Rouge, but I think maybe now I will die of this, of broken heart.

When I have run out of words to copy, I look out the window at this strange place called India. Inside the train, the people around me are snoring. I don't understand how they can close their eyes when there is so much to see.

You show you care, you die.You show you fear, you die.You show nothing, maybe you live.

This affliction--hope--is so cruel and stubborn, I believe it will kill me