Monsoon rain has turned the mountain area lush green again. Seoson of rain can be very romantic time when you are under shelter and have nothing to worry about.
Watching pouring rains over the city, I recall those rainy times in border jungle. Also shower rains, over bamboo town of the refuge. Under that cloud, yet gave hipnotic atmostphere, the maladies were in the air.
Early this moth, while the people of Tha Song Yang District, Tak Province were starting their farming season, over three thousands Karen villagers from the other side of the border could not, but displaced by armed operation of the Burmese army against the Karen National Union.
Forests are the same green, the rains don't discriminate, but the humans do. Not by nature, the season of fear started.
While Thai army maintains to wait for figthing to stop and that refugees can return home, the rain keeps hitting the area, so does the shootings on the opposite sites.
I at odds feel the cold of a child's skin, whose eyes are same innocent with all those victims of changing season.
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