It wasn't my intention to dwell on Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw again tonight, yet that is often the nature of such things.

Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause when I tried to flip through an old book resting in proximity to the window. It's a common result of humidity. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, pulling the pages apart one at a time, and somehow his name surfaced again, quietly,

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