I went out for a morning stroll along the river in Kampot in southern Cambodia. A tree covered with vines caught my attention. Scrawled on the vines were various messages, some love notes, others undecipherable to me. The lens on my camera started acting up, failing to focus, so I sat down to take a look and see what was up. After cleaning my lens, to no avail, a man hopped off his moto (motorcycle) and started up the standard moto-driver troll: where are you going, where are you from, do you want a ride to such and such and so and so. I said I was just out for a walk.