The last monk
Mandalay,
Myanmar
All the residents in the monastery are accustomed to sleep late at night after reciting all the old lessons. However, everybody is happy to get up from the coarse and rough coconut mattresses and wooden floor early in the morning before day break. The loud and harsh sounds of the brass discs and bronze bells including hollow-wood-gongs, mercilessly beaten by the sleepy young scholars and novices, make every body jump out of the uncosy beds. It is about four o'clock early dawn. Hot rice gruel is ready in the dining hall to appease the hungry stomachs, this is the regular breakfast if there is no festival and special ceremonial celebration in the monastery. Then having changed into clean robes and washed the alms-bowls all the monks and novices set out in a long procession into the village quarters for alms-round. From this POV I feel like the last monk.