I was upcountry for a while, with no hope of properly working internet, and I have no idea anymore what I meant to write here, last week I spent a whole afternoon at Shwedagon, and loved it as always, not simply the sparkling gold, that would be too easy, but people-watching.
And then, there are the details, the monsters, the Buddha life story glazed tiles, and a zillion spires, and the sweeping views, and the changing clouds and lights.
And all I can do is look and miserably scratch the surface, nobody will ever understand what this nation has been going through, and how it has survived, and thank god we don’t have to, but somehow I take away these little morsels of feelings, echoes of olden times, quiet whispers, secret hopes, crushed dreams, smiles of today, hopes for tomorrow…. and Shwedagon knows it all, has seen it all, stands for it all.
….and for me, the circle is completed, I don’t hate Yangon anymore, I’m free to become connected again in a different way…. I can be a footnote again in an obscure appendix, I am free to leave, free to come back….