routes
The two children passed the angry water on the swinging bridge in silence, holding on their hands to the heavy tree cargo on their back. Their faces affixed at the loose wooden bars, they passed a group of noisy strangers that interrupted the daily view routine, the details and serenity that had put together their childhood till that day. Thinking that if they'll ignore, the embarrassed looks on the stranger's faces will also disappear, as well as the lens that burning in humane and digital memory every little thing that I came to find in Nepal. People burning their deceased in silence, pilgrims rolling prayer stones and believing that Buddha's eyes really do see everything and the wedding orchestra playing the simple joy of the poor in the Bhaktapur passageways.
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