The sky is a familiar, soft blue, punctuated with petite white clouds. There is no escaping the heat among these rice paddies. Flood's ever-present dirt brown towel is already soaked. Dan looks as fresh as the rice, reinforcing our common conviction that he not entirely human. The fresh green shoots are interspersed with a flowing yellow grass and shimmering black water.
Scrub brush is to our south.
It is green now, but we have each stared at the 1969 photo for too long, leaving only the impression of a terrain scorched by defoliant and battle. Still, we each comment on the serenity of the scene, which is only enhanced by the infrequent puttering of a motorbike on the nearby dirt road. We had passed this place earlier on the same road, proceeding too far south. We mistook a navigable canal for the dry one in our photo. It was back as this intersection that we met Doung.