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Stillness is audible; the temple listens back.

In Angkor Wat’s cruciform gallery—once the Hall of a Thousand Buddhas—a lone figure endures: the Enlightened One beneath Muchilinda’s vigilant coils.  Before dawn, Lucas Varro met this hush.  Flagstones were cool, lampblack shadows intact.  A single shaft of morning settled upon the serpent’s brow, and the shutter closed as softly as eyelids in meditation.

Medium-format black-and-white film received the silence.  In the studio, chiaroscuro coaxed depth; hand-toning warmed the stone until it seemed to inhale its own radiance.  The resulting print, Anahata Nada—the unstruck sound—belongs to the inward current of the Spirit of Angkor series.  It makes no declaration; it waits.

Printed on museum-grade Hahnemühle Bamboo paper and limited to twenty-five numbered impressions with two artist’s proofs, each sheet bears the quiet tally of devotion.  Signed, authenticated, and presented in archival harmony, the work offers not an object of veneration but a space that listens with you.


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