The Phnom Penh afternoon was scorched by the relentless sun. Suddenly, the neighbor’s white rooster went mad, chasing a hen across the yard in a chaotic blur of flying feathers and rising dust. This raw, unbridled movement instantly swung open the gates of my memory.

I was taken back to an afternoon in rural Laos years ago, in a primitive barbershop with a single, rickety chair. The barber’s scissors were clicking away, but his eyes were no longer on my head. He was staring intensely at an old, flickering TV in the corner, where the **local channel was broadcasting a replay of Mike Tyson’s legendary boxing matches**.

Sitting in that chair, I felt a surge of anxiety. The sheer fanaticism in his gaze made it seem as though he were ready to drop his shears and bolt through the screen, traveling back in time just to beg the prime Tyson for an autograph.

This obsession with combat and power is the underlying DNA of the men on this land. Whether it was the distracted eyes of that Lao barber watching those old TV replays years ago or the aggressive spirit of this white rooster in a Phnom Penh backyard today, they share the exact same frequency of survival. I only wish to capture this raw slice of reality; everything else is secondary.

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The old dog, despite having cataracts in its eyes, still lives on tenaciously.