Tuesday, July 29, 2014
From What Am I Doing Here, by Bruce Chatwin
"And we shall lose the tastes -- the hot, coarse, bitter bread; the green tea flavoured with cardamons; the grapes we cooled in the snow-melt; and the nuts and dried mulberries we munched for altitude sickness. Nor shall we get back the smell of the beanfields, the sweet, resinous smell of deodar wood burning, or the whiff of a snow leopard at 14,000 feet."
From A Lament for Afghanistan