The urban people, handicapped from detachment and loneliness, long for a place of eternal peace. So they travel far and wide, to the highest mountain just a notch below the clouds, looking for that perfect spot, a place where one could just sit outside on that day when the sun comes out, smoking and talking, pacifying the eternally restless soul.
The mountain people, handicapped from ignorance and poverty, long for a place of progress. When they dream at night, they dream of speaking other languages, of surviving illnesses, of having the luxury to choose their paths. They dream of that perfect day, the day when the sun comes out, when one could set out on a long journey to betterment.
Could it be that place is not what we need to search for?
