The Mystery Bakery

In an unsuspected alley way there is a bag of day old bread hanging in a window.  It is so dark inside that it would take someone adventurous and brave enough to enter for inquiries.  The scent of fresh baked bread pulls my nostrils and guides me in.  The baker waves me away to not take his picture, ashamed of his tattoos he doesn't want to be seen.  I have to convince him I think he is beautiful and that I don't mind the tattoos for his to allow me to shoot.  The sun is so hot outside and yet in here there is no escape.  The oven burns even hotter raising the temperature to almost sauna status at 150 degrees F.  It is like a sweat lodge, no wonder they have their shirts off.  I walk out of there with fresh, hot french rolls.  They are perfectly crisp and flaky on the outside and soft and airy on the inside.  I eat two before hopping on a motor bike (against the provision of my professor) to go share the rest of the bread with hungry patients waiting in line at the hospital.  Back home in my editing process I wondered who is this man? What do his tattoos represent? And why was he ashamed of them?  Was he a soldier in the khmer rouge, is he accepted in his community? What is his story? Having not spoken Khmer I decided to tell a story of what may have been going on.  Inspired by the ash and smoke of burning bread I share with you "The Baker of the Bread"

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