It reminded me of thunder, but it was a different type of crash. One of the fingers of drifting ice that grasp these peaks had lost a chunk of its icy tips. Fog rolled in. Its white puff slithered across the slate-coloured mountain range, and the fusion of light and dark merged into a haunting aura.
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I am happy to see my latest interview posted on the Interview with Writers website.
Burning Arches and Masked Dancers at the Tamshing Phala Choepa Bumthang Valley, Kingdom of Bhutan
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