Some things are similar. Just take smoke and clouds. But these are as different as zenith and nadir. I was excited to feel it — the sameness and the variation, when I was traveling on a misty mountain highway in Mao. I felt, interestingly, a smell of heaven in the clouds that rushed toward us when we were driving, and I felt so glad, despite its similarities with the smoke that we see abundantly across the killing fields of my hometown, that it was truly different and so refreshing.
The moment took me to another comparison. The vibrant shades of green with the bright crimson and scarlet. The former which we saw in all the direction, making us feel fresh all along the journey; and the latter which was non-existent on that highway but what we are so used to. Bleeding red: state terrorism, destruction of the gang culture in the name of insurgency and other bloody things. Let there be olive!
The last one. We are always used to agitating news of murder and killing. Everyday the newspapers bring in stories of our decadence. But there was a different agitation. The ravines and deep gorges and the narrow, serpentine roads. Often the gorges would take our heart down through a great height that we felt nothing but happily and amusingly agitated. It is really amazing how things are different in our world.
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