And death is the darkness at the other end of the tunnel of life, not all parts of which are illuminated with equal brightness-some parts may be darker than what awaits the end of the passage.
Years, fly a little slow. Let me yet touch my childhood without straining my outstretched fingers. Childhood,do not yet die. Memories, do not slip like silk from my clutch. Dreams, hold on a little longer. Weariness, delay a little on your way.
Why am I this morbid?
*Thunks head on poor wall*
The Rhododendron sanctuary in Hilley, when the trees are in full bloom, looks heavenly I've been told and I must visit Jorethang once more. For as long as I live, Jorethang will never leave my dreams.