Hmm.

Wondering wild winters don't pass this way this now.
Instead, the world swims over and beyond in the blue lightened evening sky before dark and without red in the story line or clouded reservations up there.

There, behind the Public Security Bureau's panopticon, is a long pasture of backlit vapor settling in on the hills around Lhasa, god realm.
The angle at which the all-seeing eye of concrete skyscraping plateau sky strikes down at me understates its direct and piercing view.

In fact, there may not be one there knowing through seeing and controlling by knowing. There may be instead a drunk and loosely uniformed frump cradling his bottle of painkiller having just slaughtered another brief moment of conscience in which the knowledge was too much for one man's frame and needed anesthetizing.

Then below bellow belly laughs and guttural appreciations of grilled warm and luscious stick food and the teasing of small children with dripping chilli oil on their soft chins and absorbing shirts of cotton.