Good Morning Lhasa

Brightly overcast morning the world lifts only so high but lovely still.
Those clouds which blend together and seem to have some independence, but only still let pass the indirected and refracted in mess light.
Escher's vision is oddly manifested here in this compound of cleanliness.
Outdoor hung passages like a Sarasota motel strung out along the vein of US HWY 41. There in the stillness of a building grounded, bodies walk obliquely rising slowly along an incline plane and also descending the other (or is it?) direction.
Lhasa goes precious in its final days. I mean my final days here which are its final days in my web.