I stood there gawking at the aesthetic collision of progress with ancient culture. Behind me smoked Bromo, an active volcano in Indonesia. In front of me appeared a silent witness of present reality in the chilly, dawn air.
Was it east vs. west, technology vs. art, head conquering heart? What garish antennae sprout from our desires for improvement and change? Do they make the past more or less beautiful?
I only know that they refuse to be dismissed. We miss something important when we simply allow them to remain the part we don’t see.