“From his father’s head, the jata, bleached red and gold by the sun and wind and cold on this highest mountain in all creation, tumbled down, like the ashen ariel roots of the tree. A thin stream of light, powdery, like fine dust, emanated from the middle of his forehead. Mother, seated beside Father, was leaning towards him, and he knew that their two bodies, at some point, would be so close together, you couldn’t tell where one ended and other began.”
