From turquoise green to violet, the colors of Lake Karakul at noon were totally unexpected in such a moon-like landscape.
The warmth of the kitchen in the humblest and most welcoming guesthouse before the Ak-Baital Pass, the highest point of my journey (4,655 m).
I stopped to rest in an improvised coach at a construction site. It was hot and windy, but it was good enough for me to spend the night. Suddenly, local children appeared. They sang, danced, and clapped with contagious joy. I encouraged them to draw, and I sketched their portraits. They invited me to dinner, and I spent the night at one of their homes, sleeping beneath a mulberry tree.