Monday, November 13, 2006


Golden temple against muted blue-gray sky. Early evening. The inset doorway green with incandescent light--glowing, like the faces of the worshippers, who pour out onto the street, some seated on smooth courtyard stone (also gleaming), their backs to us, tan and pink and yellow rust, costumes white as they near the door. A burst of light above one tower--interlocking rings, also gold--which dissappear into the darkening sky. Rangoon--it's the name, perhaps, the lilting air, warmth so very close to our own--enveloping...

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