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Article snippet: Noor slid to the ground. “It seems I will die here,” he said, with an almost clinical detachment. “I will die in this place.” Minutes before, in the Balukhali refugee camp in Bangladesh, Noor had tapped my shoulder. It was an unusual sensation in a Muslim community where men and women keep to themselves. I turned around, and he showed me his bullet wound. Bruises mottled his body. Noor’s story was consistent with many I had heard from refugees fleeing Myanmar, a mass exodus of at least 400,000 Rohingya that began toward the end of August and that the United Nations on Monday labeled a “textbook example of ethnic cleansing.” The 25-year-old farmer was in his fields in Maungdaw Township when the Myanmar military descended. The village men, and even some of the boys, were beaten, then told to run. Some made it, others didn’t. Noor was lucky. A bullet only grazed his right shoulder. He could still walk after his beating. But days of trekking through jungle on the way to Bangladesh had broken his body. Refugee camps are overflowing with Rohingya in need, hands outstretched for food or water or lifesaving medicine. You cannot help everyone, so you walk on, promising yourself that documenting their suffering is a form of aid. On Aug. 29, the day before I traveled to Bangladesh, I stood in my new apartment in Bangkok — where I’d just moved to begin work as The Times’s Southeast Asia bureau chief — surrounded by boxes of possessions I did not need or even remember that my... Link to the full article to read more