You should have been an angel, it would of suited you…

My gold-leafed, triptych angel, she knows just what to do…

Will the sun shine all sweetness and light?

Burn us to a cinder, our third stone satellite?

She’s all that ever mattered, and all that ever will

My cup, it runneth over, I’ll never get my fill…

The boats in the harbour slip from their chains…

Head for new horizons, let’s do the same

I’m on a tightrope, baby, nine miles high…

Striding through the clouds, on my ribbon in the sky…

I’m on a tightrope, baby, one thing I’ve found, I don’t know how to stop, and it’s a long, long, way down

 The red bricks of Bhaktapur took a pounding the day the earthquake struck. 

Langtang shook like a baby’s rattle the day the earthquake struck.

Not all of the buildings you see still stand. Yet one thing does: the memory of Nepal as it was, as it will be again.

All images supplied by Ⓒtrespasserine2014

Lyrics supplied by the Stone Roses, Tightrope, Second Coming, 1994