beside boljoon church is a rectangular wooden building with terracotta roof tiles which used to be a convent in the past.

i’m not gonna lie. if i were to describe its state in one mono-syllabic word, i’d say it’s sad. no, i’d say it’s really really sad.

because right from the entrance, you could see the chipped white painting on deteriorating wood and moldy coral stone walls screaming for the dignity of a facelift.

while a lone piano stands idly on the left side of the convent door whose keys are worn out from neglect and from the vices of time.

but in spite of the dreary surrounding unheeded by the blind woman who offers massage service at the entrance of the convent for a fee according to your heart’s sympathetic discretion, these stairs provide some form of redemption; a sense of hope. all is not lost, after all.

because behind these stairs, you catch a glimpse of what it was like to live in a convent. of course, i imagine these stairs were polished until they shone; until they were so smooth they posed as a hazard to those who wore the traditional wooden slippers otherwise known as bakya.

this was probably the convent’s main room although i’m not too sure about that because there was no one there to tell us. it’s big and spacious and kind of empty. that last detail did not escape me. it really is one big, empty room with nothing much to see.

but i’m not complaining. because the view by the windows was the perfect backdrop for another impromptu photoshoot. haha.