Stillness Before Time Resumes
I arrived before birdsong, before even the guards had stirred. The corridor exhaled its centuries in the scent of lichen, ash, and wet sandstone. No wind—only the curl of incense from a monk’s hand. Then He emerged: Ta Reach, eight-armed, garlanded in jasmine and time, veiled in half-light. Not standing in glory, but stillness.
I waited until thought dissolved. The camera remained open—not to take, but to receive. One breath. One long exposure. Later, in the darkroom, I shaped that hush with shadow and light. Every curve remembered.
Still before the gods—
stone listens more than it speaks,
light becoming vow.
Also in My Journal
A Scroll Carried by Wind
Zhou Daguan came to Angkor to observe—but found a kingdom that defied explanation. This introductory scroll welcomes new readers into The Wind That Carried Me to Zhenla: a poetic resurrection of the 13th-century emissary’s journey, revoiced with reverence, wonder, and the hush of temple stone.
The Goddess of the Golden Tower
There is a tower the moon remembers—where a king once climbed in silence, and a goddess wove humility into gold. Though the spire has faded, her presence lingers in the hush between breath and stone, waiting for the next soul who dares to kneel before the unseen.
Phimeanakas and the Goddess of Sovereignty
Within the Royal Enclosure of Angkor Thom stands Phimeanakas—the Celestial Palace. More than a monument, it is a myth made stone: where kings bowed to the goddess of the land, and sovereignty meant surrender. A contemplative meditation on sacred architecture, divine right, and the quiet power that still lives between the stones.
