Kawazo - I Watch for the Loneliness of the Mountains (11)
The sun hangs high in the sky, and the temperature at midday in Gacha is already similar to that of midsummer. For more than ten days, along the way, I did not see the imaginary clouds and rain, and the changes of the four seasons caused me to have a trace of loneliness whenever I saw the clear sky all day.
The peach blossoms at an altitude of 3,000 meters have been in full bloom for a week, and while the circle of friends is covered with the excitement of the full blooming Nyingchi peach blossoms, our camera is indulgently kissing the ancient peach forest that blooms in Gacha. At this moment, the mountains are silent and the peach forest is quiet. I saw a sea of pink flowers stretching endlessly like angelic satin covering the mountain beams, while the petals of the fallen branches were gently rolled by the gentle wind, flowing, and snuggled together without crying.
In front of the house next to the mountain path, on a large withered tree stump, two children who appeared to be brothers and sisters were playing strangely at us. The look in his eyes seemed to resist the tranquility that could never be found at the foot of the snowy mountains; the rolling wheels that appeared in the fields and homes of the old trees and old houses, the cattle, sheep, dogs, and barking birds, and the people who scratched their ears.
The morning air of The Gongbu Manor is slightly wet, and the cool room is even more refreshing. Looking out from the terrace, clouds locked the peaks of the distant mountains; a goshawk circled across the high eaves, stubbornly disappearing into the mist illuminated by the glow.
If the three days of solitude in Lhasa are just unbearable to break the peaceful state of mind on the long road into Tibet, then the only thing that still stirs in Nyingchi's memory today is my spirit of interlacing with the snow peak that has been silent for a thousand years.
When the true face of Nanga Bawa was revealed, we had been praying for two hours. The snow-white peaks are topped with faint clouds, and the transverse peaks are like a huge carved screen that divides the world in front of us into two directions; the peaks of the peaks show a clear edge shape, and the snow peaks on the peaks are crystalline; at that moment, the clouds that meet the sky reveal a golden light.
Every snowy mountain has an intoxicating story. I would like to embrace every towering spruce tree and tearfully kiss the rings of the immortal years; I would like to hear the murmur of the mountain wind in the slanting sun, and whisk away the sorrows of the millennium at the summit.
A black yak came from the white of the snow-capped mountains in the distance, as if to show the sacred 、、、 that belonged only to the Tibetan plateau.