Frieze’s of bare breasted girls all bangles and beads and whimsical smiles. Stairs melted by time with headless warriors guarding entrances to long forgotten places. Parades of soldiers and slaves from battles lost and won.
Wandering and rambling through the blackend stones and walls of Angkor’s ancient temples just leaves me speechless, imagination going wild. Despite the relentless heat, I just stand and marvel at the wall upon wall of sculpted relief depicting a life wishing not to be forgotten. The dancing figures adorned in intricate head dresses, the colonnades with hints of faded decoration all suggest some joy in an otherwise religious setting.
Then more girls, leaping and dancing in twos and threes…slaves, concubines or just dancers? And more serious figures, equally ornate, standing in corners, sacred lotus flower in hand, perhaps not quite approving of all the dancing. Another story in the Bayon temple of a triumphant procession led by the king and his two queens, with a sucession of proud fighters and defeated armies, sculpted so exquisitly that no one could doubt that this was indeed a victory and time to celebrate.
And it all takes place in these crumbling ruins of majestic temples and palaces, for centuries absorbed by a jungle which forever oozes in.
It’s just too hot, I find some shade as a warm breeze rustles the leaves of the trees and gently brushes over the incredible, inspiring and thought provoking remains of this ancient city.
