Kindle Notes & Highlights
Nerys knew that she would never forget the afternoon of the long, gasping climb up to the Baralacha Pass. When at last she staggered up to the highest point, at sixteen thousand feet, it was as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of her brain and her blood, leaving her whole body as limp as string.
It was so good to read how a century ago, the woman felt what I felt in Baralacha Pass.
Spread beneath her feet, unrolled like the most magical of carpets, was the Vale of Kashmir.
After the bare grey and brown landscape she had just crossed, the soft blend of a thousand shades of blue and silver and lavender mingled with pale green and gold seemed too sumptuous to be real. She stared at it for a long time, with the scent of rich earth and sweet water drifting up to her.
How unwittingly you stepped into your parent’s skin, she thought.
The unromantic truth about romance is that it’s flimsy. Don’t make it your sole support because it won’t bear your weight.
She might easily never have learnt this language that in the end came naturally, and the delight would have been locked away for ever, like a wonderful unperformed trick hidden in one of the magician’s boxes.
