Angels to Angkor
The last notes of music drifted into the clouds. We left the tigers behind in the jungles of Thailand. Closer now to the worn walls of the palace. Maiden busts and crumbling towers. A hidden city sleeping below the ground. The jungle may become a desert now. Cracks. Shattered. On the other side always lives the soft, the meek and supple. A single trill falls from the stars.
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