Standing on a hillside overlooking it, I can see trees pushing their way up through the roofs, vines twined around the gates, the watchtowers empty and abandoned.

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Outside I could see a half dozen wooden stilt homes surrounded by muddy patches and palm trees, a clothesline hung with shirts and sarongs, tree branch kindling stacked under a storage shed, a scrabbly vegetable garden where smoke plumed from a dying fire.

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