The clouds seemed to twist like trails from the hills, mirroring the dozens that spilt up from the countryside, as if to outline a gateway to some sun-dialed utopia just off the map and out of reach. This higher ground hinted at was indeed sacred, and while it lay miles away, its presence could be felt in the heart of town, in the people—stitched into the songs they sang and fabrics they wore—its energy as heavy as the altitude itself.
In a row stood three men, porters by trade. Behind two of them, shadows.
“I could show you how those mountains got there,” came from the shadowless one.