Commemorating the temple built by Egypt's first pharaoh, it has endured for thousands of years and remains well-preserved to this day.

Standing inside the Temple of Horus in Edfu, I look up at the weathered stone walls. Gazing at the statue of the falcon-headed god, despite more than 2,000 years passing, its eyes remain sharp. This temple, buried under desert sands for millennia, is Egypt's second most intact ancient structure, with every sandstone block retaining its original form. The gods on the murals wear flowing robes, their colors still vivid, as if the rituals were just completed. My favorite is the Horus statue in the side hall; the falcon head beneath the crown is unexpectedly rounded and cute, dissolving the god’s aloofness and giving a very charming feeling. This guardian god of Egypt’s first king and pharaoh, remembered as a god of war, now feels like a gentle old friend. Looking around the hypostyle hall, palm-shaped stone columns hold up the sky, their capitals carved with the Eye of Horus—a protective symbol and a testament to the sophistication of ancient Egyptian mathematics. Running my fingers over the column’s rough carvings, I can feel the warmth of the craftsmen from the Ramesses era. Honestly, after visiting three temples in a row, I was a bit tired; the similar layouts made me dazed. But just as I was about to leave, the sunset shone through the stone cracks, gilding the falcon-headed statue. Suddenly, I understood that what matters is not remembering the differences between each temple, but cherishing the encounters with these eternal moments.