I am everyone.

In cities like Phnom Penh, there is an ugliness.

Black smoke lines stream from tailpipes long past due, sticky plastic trash collects in sidewalk piles, rotten fruit and dead fish slop on seller's tables, and wild dogs of incestuous breed prowl the gutters.

But there is beauty in its rhythms.

Here you can walk to the beat of traffic light ticks and hike over broken tiles scattered by tree life beneath. You can move to the neon glow of restaurant lights that snap down the street into domino life, or pick a straight line across motorbike traffic and with unfounded faith know that they will stop.

In the city sprawl of Phnom Penh, I know no one and no one knows me. Today I am a virgin and the city is a whore. I feel every sensation of its filth and beauty, in scent, sight, sound, and touch.

Today I can be anyone I want to be, and if I choose, no one will ever know.

Here in the midst of millions I realize that I am everyone.