Complimentary worldwide shipping on orders over $400 · No import tariffs for most countries

0

Your Cart is Empty

Rain rides every leaf. A silver-green hush hangs above the moat, catching shy reflections of the tiered sanctuary beyond. I note how the light glides over wet bark, how moss drinks its own colour. Nothing signals the moment; it simply unfolds.

From the tree-line, saffron moves. A monk appears—not dramatic, merely certain. The dog that loves him darts ahead, tail carving small ripples in the air. Their convergence is ordinary and also eternal; it binds the stair to breath, the temple to heartbeat. I remain still, allowing the lens to rest, allowing devotion to reveal itself without instruction. Somewhere inside the pyramid a thousand years of chant awaken.

The shutter opens like a held sigh. Long seconds pass, recording the seam where movement meets stillness. I think of the darkroom already, of coaxing depth from shadow, of brushing warmth along the greys until stone begins to pulse.


Rain settles,
and the temple tastes its own name.

A monk lifts silence
step by step;
his dog carries it back down,
tail bright with confession.

Whole centuries bend,
listening for small feet
and the soft rustle of prayer
unfolding inside shared breath.


Also in Library

Before the Shutter Falls
Before the Shutter Falls

3 min read

Before the shutter falls, fear sharpens and doubt measures the cost of waiting. In the quiet hours before dawn, the act of not-yet-beginning becomes a discipline of attention. This essay reflects on patience, restraint, and the quiet mercy that arrives when outcome loosens its hold.

Read More
A red-and-black chalk sketch of an Angkor terrace at dawn: a broom leaning on a square column, a water bowl, a folded cloth, and a freshly swept stone path.
Those Who Keep the Way Open — On the Quiet Guardians of Angkor’s Thresholds

3 min read

Quiet gestures shape the way into Angkor — a swept stone, a refilled bowl, a hand steadying a guardian lion. This essay reflects on the unseen custodians whose daily care keeps the thresholds open, revealing how sacredness endures not through stone alone, but through those who tend its meaning.

Read More
A red and black chalk study of a Bayon face tower in soft morning light, shown in three-quarter profile with calm, lowered eyelids.
Multiplicity and Mercy — The Face Towers of Jayavarman VII

5 min read

A new vision of kingship rises at the Bayon: serene faces turned to every horizon, shaping a world where authority is expressed as care. Moving through the terraces, one enters a field of steady, compassionate presence — a landscape where stone, light, and time teach through quiet attention.

Read More