Someone has unzipped me from the crown of my head, down between my eyebrows, down the bridge of my nariz, lips, chin, to chest. I think it was God. From my eyebrows a lotus flower has bloomed, like the image of Diego Rivera's face on Frida Kahlo's forehead. Majesty: elephants in bas-relief. We have been playing on the temples of Angkor for several days, and I think it's best if we stay here forever. I'll join an archaeological team and Rich will take the perfect photo of himself dangling from the tallest lotus tower. And we will climb - feeling the sandstone with our hands, clinging to it for strength, pulling life from inside it. We are kids again. Or maybe since we are really now adults I should say that we've fully embraced Aldous Huxley's
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