Of the 1000s of murals carved into the hallowed walls of Angkor Wat, we came upon these tiny, female dancers. They held my wonder. As I stared at them, I imagined them coming to life and dancing for the king. Supple, lithe bodies twirling. Moving for what? For the rains? For fertility? To pacify angry gods? Or simple to entertain the king, his honored guests, his loyal subjects. Oh, how I would have loved to be in that audience thousands of years ago to feel the pulsing beat of the dreams and relish in their artistry.