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The Sentries of Time
Dusty light filtered through the gnarled roots of a straggler fig
treeô€€ illuminating the abandoned nave of the Kmer templeô€€ ô€€„Bayonô€€ƒô€€…
Perched on the opposing windowsillô€€ Phnom Penh removed his
sandals and took the bamboo hat from his shaved head􀀃 He slipped
from the aperture and onto the floorô€€ his orange monks robe rippling
across his dynamic form􀀃 He strode past a procession of square pillars
towards a golden figure
seated cross􀀂legged in the
centre of the room􀀃 He
knelt in front of the
Buddhaô€€ resting his
forehead on its feet􀀃 The
corroded limestone was
cool and in the still
morning airô€€ Phnom
prayed􀀃 He prayed that he
would be granted his daily
pittance of rice􀀃 He prayed
that the onslaught of
8
looters would cease their robbing of the temple􀀇s sacred treasures􀀃
Most importantlyô€€ he prayed that the chauvinism that divided his
society would cease􀀃
Three kilometers awayô€€ Dylan Claymore stared into the hollow
eye sockets of a skull snubbed to a reclining gum tree by a red
fletched arrow􀀃 Its mouth hung open in a toothless shriek􀀃 Forcing
himself to look awayô€€ Dylan pulled a sleekô€€‚lensed camera from his
bag􀀃 He plucked up the conviction to snap a shot of the gruesome
sightô€€ƒ His second glimpse was marginally more bearableô€€ though it
still had the unerring ability to send a shiver down his sweaty spine􀀃
A beam of light shone through the cavernous noseô€€ projecting a
heart shaped silhouette onto the smooth trunk􀀃 Dylan put the
camera away􀀃
He was traveling alone􀀃 He wasn􀀇t exactly a skux but he didn􀀇t
careô€€ he didnô€€‡t have the time or the patience for other peoples
blather􀀃 He used to be a Latin teacher in the small town of Ullapool
along the north coast of Scotland􀀃 After 􀀆􀀄 years of explicating
declension to indifferent studentsô€€ he had administered a premature
retirement to travel the world as a photographerô€€ a job he had
acquired through the nepotism of his uncle􀀃 He had no idea that he
was about to make the discovery of his life􀀃
It was now middayô€€ and the
summating sun shone across the
nodulated spires of an eclipsed
city􀀃 Angkor Wat had once been
the capital of the ninth century
Kmer Empireô€€ƒ Even todayô€€ its
􀀅􀀄􀀄􀀄 temples sprawl over an area
larger than Parisô€€ in the country
once known as Frankia􀀃 The city
is configured as a map of the
cosmosô€€ with each monument
representing a star􀀃
Phnom walked along the
Bayon gate􀀃 Here the wall􀀂less
city of Angkor was guarded by a
row of stone sentriesô€€ their
shoulders worn by the abrasion
of centuries of squall and deluge􀀃
At their feet stood a foreign manô€€
gazing incredulously at their
massive statures􀀃 He was not
9
here to barter or to bestow􀀂 He was here to take􀀂 Phnom took a
polished wooden bowl from his sackô€€ holding it out to the strangerô€€
gesturing for an offering of riceô€€‚ For a long momentô€€ they looked at
each otherô€€‚ Finallyô€€ Phnom turned awayô€€ overwhelmed by sadnessô€€
for he knew that the bridge between
then
and nowô€€
here
and thereô€€
had fallen􀀂
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