It wasn't my intention to dwell on Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw again tonight, however, that is frequently how memory works.

A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. The trigger today was the sound of paper sticking together as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book placed too near the window pane. Humidity does that. I stopped for a duration that felt excessive, pulling the pages apart one at a time, and somehow his name surfaced again, quietly, without

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