The Lost Girls.

It was easy for me to feel depressed at the horror, and I was just a visitor passing through. But these kids lived with daily reminders of the violent past and had no choice but to carry on. Again my mind traveled back to Esther and Sister Freda, who showed me that it’s possible to transform ourselves into something greater than our suffering, how life forges on despite pain.

I excused myself to go to the bathroom. Then I stood at the edge of the room and watched the Cambodian teens going about their business. I imagined them wanting the same things that I wanted: To feel safe in an unpredictable world. To work toward somethings that mattered. To know love. To belong.

– Chapter 23, Holly. Boston, Massachusetts/Cambodia. December-January.

I’m not done with this book yet. A part of me hopes the end doesn’t even come. Because, I know I’ll never quite be able to find another travel memoir that matches up to this book. I’m not even kidding. All of you, who suffer from insatiable wanderlust like me, need to get your hands on this book. I’m not sure if the male gender can relate to this book as much as a female does. Especially if you’re a 20-something-year-old female. This book speaks to me through and through. Since also, it’s a true story of the 3 girls below.

[From left to right] Jennifer, Holly and Amanda

And if you’re looking for an actual review of this book, before you actually read it. Head over here (a review by Athira from Reading on a Rainy Day).


2 thoughts on “The Lost Girls.

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