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The stone still held warmth, but the sun had gone.
I approached slowly. The path curved into shadow, then opened into a wall of radiant quiet. There they were—two devatas carved into the courtyard’s inner wall, poised not in warning, not in greeting, but in something softer. Something that felt like companionship.

One tilted her head slightly. The other seemed to hold her breath. A curl of lotus wound across each shoulder. Their hips turned, mirrored but not identical. And their smiles—those were not temple smiles. They were the kind shared in secret, in memory, in light.

They were not waiting for me. But I knew I had arrived.

I placed the camera as gently as I could, not because they might vanish—but because they never had.

a slant of gold
in the hollow of their earrings—
the day folding in on itself.

they are not guarding,
not dancing,
not even witnessing.
they are simply
there,
where light meets stone
and stays
just long enough
to be remembered.


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