I RAISED MY HAND against the piercing sun and squinted into the brush.
I wasn’t sure what I looking for. Building foundations? Scorched earth? Beaten dirt roads? Any sign of the people who’d once inhabited the empty expanse of grass before me.
I’d known two of them. They’d lived here, thirty years ago, in the overgrown, abandoned field I was now tromping through. Behind me, the mountain range that constituted the de facto Thai-Cambodian border stood big and black; before me, snatches of a cheerful, sunny beach.