Holy Writ
Mandalay, Burma 2011
A revered monk reads Buddhist scripture or suras. He was tall and thin and to all appearances hairless. His large eyes glowed with happiness at seeing our guide who at one time was his pupil. He seemed old to me, but then I always forget how old I am. Perhaps we were the same age.
We met the monk in the open space under the monastery supported by teak log pillars. Light entered from the sides barely penetrating the interior. I asked the monk to hold the book near his face so the light would be reflected from its pages towards his face.