SO it happened that I got into a minor conversation about the himalayan side of hills earlier today, with a work colleague. And then I could feel the threshold approaching, the all wanderlust craving to spill out.
"There are people who always find the grass greener on the other side"
"Those are the people with only one grass to live for. Some fall in love with the grass all around them"
Valley of Flowers crept into the head, and I was actively daydreaming. And then I was reminded of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle maintenance, since we were working towards a delightful Chautaqua...Alas, Pirsig not being common between us, and the call of Ping Pong, and our thought was interrrupted.
Yu know: I smell like prawns tonite.
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