2017, February, Golden Valley, Yangon

THE taxi dropped Lin and Oo at the gate which said No. 35, Golden Valley. Oo pressed the bell at the gate. Before their eyes, they saw some padauk trees with thick foliage were standing quietly.

The compound was spacious, and quiet, being free from the noises of downtown Yangon. Within minutes, a doorman appeared at the gate and ushered them in.

Oo said, “We came here to see U Aung Aye Myint.”

When they entered the living room from the balcony, Lin noticed a wooden settee in it. They both sat down on rattan chairs and waited for U Aung Aye Myint. During the time, they both browsed their eyes around the living room.

On the wall facing them, they saw an oil painting depicting the natural beauty of Bagan in silhouette but they could not figure out who the painter was. They both were feasting their eyes on it, feeling wonderful at the artwork done by one of Myanmar art

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