Wherever your feet take you

Amidst stretches and stretches of dense green forests, peeps this lonely rock named Sigiriya. Contested amongst historians, Sigirya lies in its solitary confinement- enclosed within its self serving monastery/palace complex. Its infinite steps rise small but patiently testing its guests. Some have sparkle at their feet, and some, well always panting. In a deep pocket that lies midway in the 660ft tall flat rock, are these extremely sinuous and bedecked women. The women face mostly in one direction and have very elongated facial features ( generally in the profile or three-fourths) , half closed, heavy lided eyes, long aquiline nose, a treufoil-esque hairstyle , slight smile and a languid . Their sexuality is foregrounded with voluptuous breasts, an almost pointed narrow waist, long fluid arms and sinuous backs. They are incomplete below the waists and often rise from clouds. Class and racial demarcations are displaying as a few women are painted green or darker shades- servants or maids who carry trays with flowers, vis-a-vis the lighter skinned - more bejeweled nude and are either holding flowers or distributing them. It is these women, in that barren rocky ruins that form the intrigue of that place. One climbs a million steps on a sturdy but swallowed by the wind to find these women ethereal in its quality , quite literally as day by day the paint withers away. It is as if they invigorate life into the ruins, but its not their overt sexuality, but just a haunting human presence, of these women and what once could have been amidst these pockets and layers and layers of bricks. Nothing remains, except these women to the test of time.