Text by Paola Corini
Photographs by Luca De Santis
Red-rose print headscarves tied around necks, skin-toned sheer tights. Vintage posters of old Mao, vintage posters of young Mao. Banquets of lamb-beasts, sweat and aromas that smell of lamb. The aquiline nose and downy upper lip of the Tajik women. The monks’ silent mealtimes – the thumb and little finger touching the code to say we want a bit more, a slow circular movement of the hand with the palm facing upwards to say pour the soup onto the rice. Figs and mulberries in the courtyards of Kashgar, the children climbing a tall ladder in the square to eat the ripe fruits from the tree.
June snow in Tibet and the cold wind creeping up your thighs from the squat toilet. The “holy” fragrance of toasted barley flour burning in the mountain stoves. The light of yak butter candles, yak yoghurt, yak blanket, yak tent. Yak’s pee splashing into the milkmaid’s eyes and onto the Canon lens. The apprentice monks’ adolescent embarrassment.
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