Walk down those corridors and the warm hands of history turn your head to meet the unbroken gaze of gods and goddesses, kings and queens, demons and apsaras, alive on the temple walls. Like a thousand and one Scheherazades, with enough stories to last several lifetimes.
But if you sit still and close your eyes, maybe you can imagine other tales – of a renegade sculptor who caressed his giggling muse as he chiselled the curve of a perfect blush, of the lotus that bloomed in the temple tank just to feel the air that spawned such magnificence, of the laughter of a primordial tide that left exotic parables on these distant shores.
What did the ancients know about the gods, that they conceived for them these mortal heavens of stone? What did the gods think of humanity, hundreds of years ago, that they wanted a reminder built of their greatness?
searching for its source
asks where I’m from