Sitting on small wooden stools, the silence was only broken by the sound of heavy rain and the vigorous brushes the woman gives to the soaked clothes in the red round plastic container. The husband astutely maneuvers the knife removing the tip and the stringy bit from the side of the green beans, separating those into a different container. Their son, maybe 6 or 7 years old, oblivious to us, holds a pencil in his hand, scribbling mandarin characters on his dusty notebook, determined to finish his homework. The silence isn’t disturbing at all. It only gives space to contemplate the question “how could they trust us, such strangers, and…