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. In this instance, it was the noise of pages adhering to one another when I reached for a weathered book placed too near the window pane. Such is the nature of humid conditions. I paused longer than necessary, ungluing each page with care, and somehow his name surfaced again, quietly, without aski

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