A selected print and book — current offerings from the Gallery and Library.

To photograph Angkor is not simply to make images of stone. It is a form of pilgrimage — a discipline of attention shaped by patience, silence, and light. One morning in a deserted gallery, I realised the most meaningful photograph I had encountered was the one I never took.

At the edge of the field where cut meets uncut, one sheaf stands listening. The jars are full, the bread is warm, yet something waits in the narrowing light. Not hunger, not blessing—only the hand that can pass by without closing.

A meditation on anger as sacred intelligence — the moment love refuses disappearance and becomes protection. Written from the hush between endurance and clarity, this poem explores the quiet transformation where gentleness discovers its boundary and survival becomes an act of care.

A monk and a girl do not touch.
The law speaks louder than breath.
Their names pass mouth to mouth, like prayer.
This bilingual poem is offered in the spirit of a Khmer tragic love story—where devotion survives prohibition, and grief becomes a form of listening.