LEILA
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I visited temples, their ancient stones cool beneath my bare feet, the air inside smelling of incense and peace.
The intricate carvings on the walls told stories I didn’t understand, but the feeling was universal, a quiet reverence, a sense of something larger than myself.
I ate street food, bold, explosive flavors that danced on my tongue, sat on tiny plastic stools at makeshift stalls, surrounded by locals, feeling like an observer in a world that was both utterly alien and strangely welcoming.
The sun here didn’t just shine, it blazed, a molten gold disc in the sky that turned everything it touched into something incandescent.
The rain didn’t just fall, it poured, a sudden, torrential downpour that sent everyone scattering, the streets turning into temporary rivers
