Another night of broken sleep and a slow morning, watching the mountains, editing photos, catching up and slowing down. Thinking about Spiti.
But it's a beautiful day, warmer, light clouds and still windless.
An hour down at the sister's place, tarot for Flower, Deepa and their father. And then the new pancake recipe and a bit of people watching, the offer of a possible lift down to Rekong later and the feeling of another quiet day arrived. 


Sitting on the edge of an orchard, looking over branches showing the first signs of fruit, prayer flags blowing in the afternoon wind, the wooden fort rising highest amongst the huddle of buildings at the heart of the village, the mountains behind, Kinnaur Kailash a raised finger in the distance. A quiet place, for the moment, beautiful. A walk, an offer of a lift upside, the familiarity of the place not lessening the beauty. 

Back on the balcony, a thought or maybe a feeling that today is the endpoint of the first part of this trip that, whatever decision I come to regarding tomorrow, the wind carries a feeling of change, that sense of an ending forming. But not quite yet as the thought forms that this place will only take on shape and form in memory. The moments pass, days flow and the mountains remain. 

And then sitting watching starlight above dark ridges from the balcony, there's a realisation that it'll soon be time to leave, that this place has become, in some way, a turning point.