Sitting alone on the mountain peaks, the blue skies surround this house
under the ivory moonfall. Below, the timberline is filled with walkers and
climbers and this old mountain man offers them a hand up, to sit with him in
peace and emptiness and share some fine tea. Remaining blind and seeking in
every angle the cave of devils have to offer, there are tears in his eyes.
For all remain blind. All of a sudden there's somebody sitting next to him
and pouring tea for himself. He asks what all that was about? Fifteen years
of climbing to have nothing more to do with it. The old man replies "it's
not my business either".
Peace, Zykaine.
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