In Burma, Everything’s Golden

Is it Burma or Myanmar? I arrived under cover of darkness. Deep, night, darkness. I queued. I waited. And then, breathless, I rushed through the silent, thick, lilting, lightless night air. Blackness. Darkness. And then a crescendo, a tower of resplendent, luminescent, incandescent gold: the spire of the Shwedagon Pagoda.

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