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

Something small triggers it. The trigger today was the sound of paper sticking together as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book kept on a shelf too close to the window. Moisture has a way of doing that. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, methodically dividing each page, and his name emerged once more, silent and uninvited.One finds

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