Our tuk-tuk driver took us to one of his favourite places – a quiet temple away from the throng with pleasant grounds to walk about in. It felt serene.


































We boarded an old steam train to take us along the railway track laid by the Prisoners of War. So many died. The conditions were appalling and they were cruelly worked to death.
It took us deep into the countryside.
We arrived at the site of the bridge. There was a shrine set in a cave.
One could only stand and imagine.








































It seemed to me that there were endless things to photograph as I went around the palace – from the little kids delighting at the carp in the bowl to a huge bees’ nest hanging from a beam up high, dripping with honey. There were the huge buildings and the tiny details, the colours and design. All set out so eloquently.
I could have happily spent days wandering around.



















































