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Just before dawn, the rains had withdrawn. The temple did not awaken—it waited. The steps wept slowly. The towers breathed without movement. I walked among them not to see, but to be seen.

Then a shape lifted into sky—not a signal, not a beginning, but something ancient passing through.

I pressed the shutter. Not to hold, but to bow.

wing above the steps—
the temple forgets to speak,
and so do I


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