India in Monsoon Season. We ride the dizzy curved lines of the jungle roads. What else is there to life if not the Spirit of the Journey? So we feel like riding to the top of these green hills, the first foothills of the Himalaya.

What is the journey? Is it when you do not quite know where you are going? When the thick veil of mist is wrapping your future as an unexpected gift?

You follow the road, you go higher. All the way up, cutting through the mist, you reach the top. You look down from the epic scale bird perspective, down on the valley, on the river: on how you have lived. From here you can see the ultimate love in every outline of the hills, in every turn of the river, in your every life line.