The powerful voice echoing through the peaks, lifts me. Strong, compelling notes and I am the crane. Aloft in the timeless, rarefied air of Tibetan mountains, the sunshine a dappled presence on the land below. My wingtips caress clouds the colour of purity, as they caress the mountain tops with humbling beauty, and then speed on their journey. Their precious cargo held fleetingly at the roof of the world, carries with it the hopes of the earth itself. The voice of the mountains becomes my compass – it guides me home. I am also timeless within nature’s beauty.
"Classic"
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