Thursday, February 24, 2011

apples, eggs and the roof of the world

Standing on the white sidewalk, a set of stone steps leading to the museum were to my left, and a car-lined street to my right. Several blocks away I could see the grander, higher buildings native to the industrial part of the city I was in, but here was the historic section, mostly full of museums.

A tree rose in front of me, about the height of a small house. Most of the branches were bare, but looking far up to the top, I saw a few apple-yellow leaves fluttering slightly against a sky as blue as a robin's egg--the roof of the world, I thought to myself.

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