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Evening lowers itself through the open roof like an invisible offering. The air smells of sun-warmed clay and leaf-shadow. I step into the chamber as one might step into memory, though I have never been here before.

Lakshmi, supreme Shakti, stands in glowing relief—four arms raised in celestial symmetry, her feet flanked by carved devotees softened by time. She does not seem carved into the brick so much as revealed from within it.

The light glows through her, not merely upon her. It is this inner radiance I try to receive with the lens. One long exposure: forty seconds of stillness, dust, and grace. Later, in the studio, I’ll try to give the print that same quiet ember. But this moment already contains it.

Last gold on red brick—
Shakti keeps the dusk alight,
roots listen for dawn


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