He saw how lost, and curious I looked, and so he walked in my direction. I had gotten into that atrium for I was famished, but I ended up finding nourishments that were not on the menu. One could listen to the dignified silence in that random cubicle on the threshing floor of a Nepalese restaurant in Vienna. It was a chilly day, but those men ignored the feeling of having cold extremities, for they were exceedingly devoted to warming the world with philosophies of love.

While the other monks, in some trance, were drawing sand mandalas on a large board, I found myself flying beyond the colors and I must hardly have hidden in my gaze what I was experiencing inside. He spoke in a calm voice, nearly whispering. …


Balolas Carvalho

Portuguese Journalist// Writer// Traveller // Content Producer//

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