The Gate the Ancestors Still Guard
Beneath soft cloud and after monsoon rain, we walked where no road leads—through moss-strewn silence, broken statues, and the stillness of unseen watchers.
Each sketch a gesture of prayer, each threshold a moment of return. The ancestors were listening. And the stone remembered.
The Serpent, the Thunderbolt, and the Sky
Beneath curling vines and soft monsoon light, gods sleep on stone, thunder waits above a crown, and wings darken the sky. This is a morning of sacred symbols and soft breath—where every carving remembers, and every silence leads inward.
When the Scissors Fell: The Buddha’s Renunciation in Stone
He lifts the blade, and the world holds its breath.
Stone bears witness. The past dissolves.
At Preah Khan, renunciation is not an ending,
but the soft beginning of the path to stillness.
