Dec 192011

I am sitting in my room in front of the computer as I start writing this, and looking at the morning lights outside. In front of me there is a pile of small pieces of paper: a bunch of State Bank of India ATM bills, some bus tickets to… I don’t know where (They are only in Hindi language), deeds about donations to some schools and monasteries, dirty and torn home printed maps of Ladakh, and some notes with the names, mail and email addresses and phone numbers of many people. Also there is a book here, fully handmade from the paper to the leather binding, with some lines inside from some of the people I befriended during my 50 days in India and Ladakh. A shiver runs down my spine as I look at these items, and memories are starting to come back. The whole thing felt so distant lately, like it never happened, but now it’s all so living and real again.

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