Sometimes I glance over in my living room, a printed cloth I bought a few years ago in a market in Negomb. It is a batik. As time goes by and especially with exposure to light it fades remarkably. Is particularly noticeable on the black inks. Two graceful richly bejewelled young ladies, compose, from the waist up, a nice aulic scene. Both seem to come from the same social extract, dressed in a semblance alike. One offers to the other a tray of water lilies, she has already taken one holding it in his left hand. Their eyes are lost in space without finding each others look. The scene is modelled on similar, painted in fresco, which are in Sigiriya. Sigiriya, or Sihagiri, the Lion Rock, is a massive structure, two hundred meters high and with
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