Living for months in these barren landscapes
housed in a tiny room with a view
on fields changing colors and textures
on roofs of village houses with drying apricots and sleeping people
on monks dancing endless rounds defining the square of the gompa
on the evening sun putting spotlights on specific sacred buildings

learning how to read this landscape
how people consciously mark it with memories
care about it, respect whatever exists

sitting among the elders on the balcony of the village
they are whispering stories and legends
pointing out evidences of parallel worlds
clarifying exact positions

slowly knowing that every building (or structure built by men) marks a unique place