One morning in Yangon, I rose at 5:30, still in darkness, and walked from downtown to Shwedagon Pagoda, the most sacred in Myanmar.
On my way I passed many abandoned homes and buildings. I had seen the city, I had seen the countryside, but nothing quite prepared me for the beauty of entering the west gate of Shwedagon on a quiet morning. The sun had rose but the light was quiet and calm. Walking on the white stone floors instantly transported me to heaven.
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