The Most Important Thing The most important thing one can do is travel the world and meet all the people, try all their food, and learn as much as one can about all of creation.

Four days into Phnom Penh, my wife and I were recharging at a nice cafe by the Mekong River. She simply wanted soup and I had a beer as we people-watched at sunset.

Suddenly there came a small gang of little girls peddling bootlegged literature—they swore it was legit but one peek within the covers disabused this risible ruse—and they divided to conquer as many dining tourists as possible. We explained we already had books, we didn't want to carry more around.

Before the sale was completely lost, our girl's expression shifted to confidentiality: “Can I draw you a picture?” We were astounded by the simple beauty of this proposition! And how could we refuse such an opportunity? This ten-year-old entrepreneur pulled up a chair, produced clean typing paper and a brace of colored pencils.

She asked what kind of drawing we would like, but we deferred to her preferences, a butterfly and a flower. The despairing sales plea transformed into artistic integrity: every curve of each petal or wing got her best effort. If she made a mistake, she earnestly apologized and started over with a new sheet of paper! We learned about her as she drew: her name is Theavy, she goes to school all day and sells these books all evening. Around 11 PM her mother would pick her up and she'd get about six hours of sleep before doing it all over again.

Eventually the other girls drifted back to us, saw what Theavy was up to and wanted to join in. There ensued a heated, high-pitched debate in Khmer that probably had to do with having secured a contract, but we were open to buying portraits from all three of them.

Building on Theavy's idea, we purchased a pack of postcards and whenever kids tried to shill their souvenirs, we instead encouraged them to draw us a nice little picture. Instead of having to hustle some change from tourists, we hoped, they got a few minutes to not think about the day, to relax, and to indulge in the creativity and playfulness of childhood.