Walter K. Lew


Children shone in the front gate and put their hands together in the
demon pavilion.
Then they went up red-dusted steps toward the granite stupa, where they
didn't hesitate to bow with their mothers.
Thick white candles with reverse swastikas and rows of images on the
ascending plinths of stone.
I crouched under the temple, in the cool shadow, by the outdoor Nestlé's
coffee dispenser--and was aroused when two women strode by in russet

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