This photo was taken in a small lean-to on the side of the road in Prey Veng Province, Cambodia. My wife (Kara) and I were visiting our adopted grandmothers and they were always holding our hands and telling us about their lives. Their sons and daughters were all killed during the Pol Pot regime and they had no one left to take care of them as they reached old age. They lived off of the food and what little aid they could get from the local pagoda. By the end of our service they were convinced that we were their grandchildren. The hands have become a symbol to us of how life should be: people helping people, kinship and love.