The Silence That Still Walks
The roof is gone, but the temple breathes. This longform reflection invites you through corridor and shadow into the silence that remains—not as ruin, but as presence that never left.
Stone Still Holding Breath
Nothing moves. And yet, the breath returns. This haibun brings you to a single moment in the Hall of Dancers, where a wall receives light as if listening—and where silence is never empty.
What the Dancers Still Remember
Columns lean and light listens. This piece begins in the hush after rain and unfolds into a quiet poem—a meditation on memory, apsaras, and the breath that returns to what still listens.
A Breath Beneath the Broken Roof
The roof is gone, but the breath remains. In the hush after rain, the artist waits beneath a listening apsara as light walks in. This journal entry is an offering in stillness—where nothing is lost, and presence endures.
