Reflecting on Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw wasn't on my agenda this evening, but that is typically how these reflections emerge.

Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. In this instance, it was the noise of pages adhering to one another as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book resting in proximity to the window. Humidity does that. I stopped for a duration that felt excessive, separating the pages one by one, and his name emerged once more, silent and uninvited.

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