The early 6am light in Yangon is spectacular. I have zero idea what’s up with the pigeon’s here, but holy hell, they love them. I’m going to go home and start a pigeon export business. New York to Yangon. Make a million dollars. There are tiny Burmese children selling some cousin of a black-eyed pea. Locals buy small bowls and then hurl them at the pigeons. The pigeon’s then dutifully fly around the heads of monks as the light streams through the clouds, romance puddles in globs on the busted pavement, and your body collapses from the sheer beauty.
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