At night, I sat in bed listening to the sounds of babies gurgling, coughing, laughing, and crying. To mothers whispering, “Te amo. Te quiero. (I love you. I love you.)” To bottles and burping and lullabies.

A story starts with curiosity. 

The most beautiful time of day in the hot, chaotic capital of Cambodia is 7 a.m. Phnom Penh rewards the early riser with the last smoky remnants of incense, placed in spirit altars just before sunrise. It wafts along side streets in half-stride, as shop owners sweep away the night’s dust and tuk-tuk drivers lounge in their vehicles. 

A story starts with humanity. 

They’ll probably never meet. Even if they could, they don’t speak the same language, eat the same food or pray to the same God. But for a couple dozen church members in Manteno, Ill., and about 60 Syrian refugees in a north Chicago neighborhood, that doesn’t really matter. 

That’s Mary Hall’s reporting style: meaningful stories, presented in an engaging way.