My afternoon shower is a relief from the heat. My towel is the shortest attire I will wear while I am here. I take my time going up the stairs to my room, feeling the wind on my legs and my back. My body is completely dry by the time I reach my private closed off section of the room the whole family sleeps in. I slide into a pair of handwashed capris and a shirt that covers my shoulders. A rooster goes off on the first floor. I climb onto my bamboo woven mat. I turn on the fan, hot air pushing over my body. I spread out the bug net. Laying on my back, the blue of the newly-lowered net creates a hazy feeling around everything in my sight. A chainsaw growls in the distance, grunting with effort. My head faces the window. Beyond the bug net I see a blue sky, white clouds, and glossy green leaves being hit by the sun. The leaves sway back and forth, swaying in a dance I will never know. The sound of birds and motorbikes, the feeling of a mechanical wind and offensive heat blend together into a harmony only possible here, in Cambodia. The moment carries me to sleep.