Dimensions: 8 x 5.5
There was one rice farmer who was 48 years old. He was born in the region of Xieng Khouang in the same village as I. This old man had no children, he only had a wife. And he earned his living as a rice farmer. He had a house and cows and buffalo. One day there was a plane which came and dropped bombs on his house, but he was not at home. After that he went to look for a hole in the morning and he was shot by an airplane and died. There was a villager who saw him die. He called for his wife to go look. The wife of the man went and she cried. She was most sorry about this. She thought of her husband until she finally became sick. But we took good care of the old woman.
In the year 1968, the lives of the population in Xieng Khouang, before, had goodness. And we built progress of good kind. And we helped each other to transplant and to harvest the rice in the ricefields with happiness. But then came the time of change and until it caused the people to go into the forests in the hills. We had to live in the holes and as our houses. We couldn't go out to see the daylight. We had to stay in the forest as our home. One day the planes bombed the ricefield of my village. And there was a young man about 19 years of age. (who was hit.)