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Laba laughed, a warm sound that lingered in the humid air. Over the next few weeks, the "documentation" became a bridge. He would sit on the low wooden stool, sketching her hands as they flew across the warp and weft. They spoke of the Lai Haraoba festivals, the legends of Khamba and Thoibi , and the way the Loktak Lake looked when the phumdis (floating islands) drifted like green clouds.

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