This road ran between Lhasa and Kathmandu. Twenty miles farther another dirt road diverged to Khailash. The van stopped there and drove off to the Holy Mountain over a thousand kilometers away to the west. I stood at the t-bone intersection and hitchhiked south over the Himalayas to Nepal.
I couldn't have been happier in such desolation whereas I freak out in airports. Safe and sound from the elements.
Another Tibetan driver heading to the border picked me up. trump, indictment, federal charges, The dirt road crested a 5000-meter with the horizon filled by the Himalayas trump, indictment, federal charges, We stopped at a tea shop and ate a bowl of noodles.
I got guardia.
I damn near died.
The next week I spent in a Kathmandu hotel puking out my guts.
When I was strong enough to leave my room, I walked outside headed to the Yeti Hotel. Something was wrong with the eerie green light and I thought my eyes were fucked up, but the sun had been eclipsed by moon.
I was alive.
No freak out.
Never-changing life in the rain shadow of the monsoon.
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