I had a great time roaming here and there with George, intruding in his early childhood life at a place which he remembers as rural heaven of peace. His years in the war, which almost took away his life and then, fortunately, met his old boss finally and got a decent job, which fed him well enough to live up to the expectation of his wife. Then gradually fade up with his dreary life and decided to run away to his rural childhood village, which he abandoned for twenty years. In his despair, everything was changed due to the wars and he didn’t find any familiar faces and taste of his early childhood days.
After all, It gave me an alarming tone, which I may face a familiar situation if I ever get back to my home after all my years in exile. The mighty mountains, where I graze goats and yaks will be mined out already, the crystal clear rivers and rivulet will vanish either in the waste of industries or dried up into a cloud of dust. The monasteries and nunneries which gives me so much peace and ease will be governed by CCP. And the grannies who gave me so much love and care will be gone by then and the kids with whom I played with will be somewhere or somewhere else for their own living and I won’t have anything left to be loved.