It is said that the Khmer culture was magnificent.
It is said that while in Europe cities’ population counted a few thousand people, it was already one million in Angkor Thom.
It is said that those temples belonged to the Hindu divinities before being changed to Budhist temples.
These temples were built in stone to last forever while we lost all the rest build in wood and bamboo, along with the Khmer prosperity.
Whoever was the God in charge, the Angkor temples were hidden for a long time by the same wild jungle that protected – suffocating, tearing to pieces and eventually making them popular and charming.
Walking along the paths traced in the woods you might still be amazed by discovering the West Gate or stepping into Bayon you might feel the blind eyes of Jayavarman VII on you.
You might get lost in Beng Mealea, surrounded and followed by the curious eyes of the children that live in the temple’s shadows.
Every stone tells a story, every root leads back to a beginning, statues and bas-relieves speak about myths.
The constant nature’s noise goes with you while you are climbing up to the top.
For a while you stop, unconsciously bowing to the majesty that used to be, just to take a breath.