Before Namtso lake they stood, admiring the inexhaustible and sharp wind that blew over the plateau and pierced through the ice peaks. It whizzed toward the boundless field and edgeless sky with a faint rumble, as if chanting a buddhist hymn, and joined the eagles that were spiraling above her head. At that moment, she felt as though she could hear some of her deepest thoughts and feelings being shattered by the ice-cold wind.
Returning from the trip, she had chosen to pursue archaeology and history.
She had chosen to be a part of the yellow sands and barren lands, the humongous thousand-year Buddha and unmanned villages, the deep, mysterious canyons and suspending cliffs.
