May I wake up one summer day to your laughter coming from the kitchen and the smell of butter tea. May the world on the other side of this find a morning not bereft of small mercies.

Once upon a time the Sky looked down at the Earth. The deep rivers running like arteries of a strong, mother heart. The Himalayas. The blue hills. The deserts. The birds that always returned to their trees on the Earth to roost at night.