Ill never forget the first time I saw this.
It was a stormy afternoon in Siem Reap and I was roaming around to some of the temples in town, gathering some information about the new place in which I chose to live.
I remember a disabled guy, no younger than me who was acting as my tour guide, just to hustle for some change. We stood at the steps beneath this display and he murmured words, nothing that I could fully understand.
The setting was grim, and I could feel the darkness and emptiness within me as I gazed up at the glass window with the bones in it.
I found out that these were the bones of the people who were murdered during the Khmer Rouge. I felt sick to my stomach. I observed the bones and found cracks in the skulls, possibly from the ruthless axing to the heads.
Since this experience, I have come across a display like this twice after and its as if nothing ever changes. You dont grow accustomed to it. You feel that sick sense of sadness deep within your gut, each and every time.
Its so hard to believe that these were the ancestors and the blood of some of my closest friends in Cambodia. I cant even begin to imagine how seeing this display would make them feel.