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There is a moment at Angkor when the light becomes a participant—when it does not fall but arrives, slowly and with intention. That is when the carvings begin to breathe.

I saw her then. A princess receiving something unseen. The gesture of the offering was tender, but it was her stillness that held me. It wasn’t what was given—it was how she made space for it.

warm light on her face
not the gift that caught my breath
but how she received


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