A woman and her grandchildren collect water in O’bat Moun, a village for people displaced by sugar plantations near Rattanak Sambal Forest in Cambodia. Photograph by Nicolas Axelrod

This is Sweden, he’d thought. Everything is bright and cheerful on the surface, our airports are built so that no dust or shadows could ever intrude. Everything is visible, nothing is any different from what it seems to be.

— Henning Mankell, from The Dogs of Riga

Sing an elegy for the washed away! For the cycles of life, for the saltwater marshes, the houses, the humans—whole islands of humans. Going, going, gone!

— Zadie Smith, from Elegy for a Country’s Seasons