It's been a hot day, but the clouds are now rolling in from the west and bringing with them a warm afternoon breeze. Their ominous formations reach out from the horizon to the sky - banking-up like mountains in silhouette. I negotiate the short distance through rice fields from the old rundown hotel, and on to the nearest village. From there, I expect to be able to pick-up the main road into town, and homeward bound.

I love this time of the day, and there's something about this part of the world that lends its self to the perfect sunset; a transition into night, seems slow and progressive, and with it, comes a sense of stillness amongst the ubiquitous nature of the roadside Tapioca plantations which litter the village approach. A single gun-shot echos the night air as I stop to take a picture. Night time here transcends into communal life as I ride the slow and winding rural byways, collecting sporadic traffic congestion around roadside diners and food market stalls, at the heart of each village. The buzz of dusk life otherwise cuts into thick and humid night air, petering-off into the calmness of evening, punctuated by the barking of stray dogs and the engine of my motorcycle.