In April 1975, the city of Phnom Penh was falling, emptying of its inhabitants. A spell of death, destruction and terror followed.
Forty years later, the scars are barely visible on the outside. Peace seems to be well-established, and the city is booming. The skyline is rapidly changing, and scaffolding is ubiquitous.
Workers are moving in from the provinces and building landscapes of columned mansions, fountains and manicured gardens. Satellite cities are mushrooming, and these gated communities epitomize the aspirations of an emerging middle class. There is recklessness in the air, a palpable thirst for modernity, and an enduring poetry.