I didn’t plan to think about Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw again tonight, however, that is frequently how memory works.

A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. Tonight, it was the subtle sound of pages clinging together while I was browsing through an old book resting in proximity to the window. It's a common result of humidity. I paused longer than necessary, separating the pages one by one, and somehow his name surfaced again, quietly, without asking.

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