Beng Melea is another temple, it’s not really near anything, certainly not a part of 200 temple conglomerate that is Angkor Wat.
There are a few signs, but mostly it’s just…ruins.
Incredible, beautiful ruins.
I think I like ruins more than I like temples. Temples are politics, temples are people and places and etiquette and every single thing that comes with religion; be it good or bad.
Ruins are memories. Ruins are what we’ve done, what we’ll become. Ruins are the whispers, the echoes of unfinished stories. They hold just enough to spark; imagine what could have been here, imagine what came before.
There’s something beautiful when faced with the stone skeleton of “people used to be here.”
It’s not been restored five times in the past hundred years. It’s not the layers piling up of what people think it should be.
It’s just…what it always was.
It doesn’t get “fixed”. It just becomes a different form of interaction.
I like it. It’s easier to breathe here.