I didn’t plan to think about Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw again tonight, but these thoughts have a way of appearing unbidden.

The smallest trigger can bring it back. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause while I was browsing through an old book kept on a shelf too close to the window. It's a common result of humidity. I paused longer than necessary, carefully detaching the sheets individually, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without war

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