Discarded

"Mountains are not Stadiums where I satisfy my ambition to achieve, they are the cathedrals where I practice my religion...I go to them as humans go to worship. From their lofty summits I view my past, dream of the future and, with an unusual acuity, am allowed to experience the present moment...my vision cleared, my strength renewed. In the mountains I celebrate creation. On each journey I am reborn."

~ Anatoli Boukreev


I have not been deviod of thoughts lately, but perhaps not everything can be expressed in a politically correct way. The book I'm reading begins with a dedication "In memory of ...." and there are a series of names. And I know they will die. Yet I am intrigued. I read on with a foolish hope that perhaps by some miracle they will not. Somewhere deep down a fear of the inevitable haunts me, but I choose to ignore it for a while.

Reminds me also of an interesting observation on stories by Arundhati Roy.

I am glad the human mind is not hard-wired to logic. To break free from it, and for a while to even embrace the irrational is something I cherish. I guess this could even explain my shot today. This is just discarded junk lying in a corner. And I think it is just apt.