Tourists--everywhere, from everywhere--flock like carrion to the remains of a once pulsing metropolis. From here, it is 600 entrancing meters to the entrance.
Inside the walls, the light differs; it plays too many f-stops too near, a contraction not of space, but of time.
Okay. Enough with the silly language. This thing is gargantuan. They've got signs providing options instead of guidance.
Which is probably how Karen and I got separated. We spent a good 90 minutes looking for each other, which provided optimal exploration and opportunities for photos.
The interiors are as exquisite as the outsides. Corridors 100m long illustrate fables in bas. The resounding theme: the struggle between good and evil fought via a tug-of-war snake across an ocean of milk. Judeo-Christian-Muslims be warned: you've got nothing on this.
Lost, searching for Karen, one encounters the Buddha. There'd be something poetic about that if I weren't such a skeptic.
Still lost. And searching...
No help here, but when you get a photo like this, in this place, it kind of puts the whole mammalian dominance in perspective. These guys used to eat us.
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