Smoke spilled from the kitchen as tea was served in small metal cups. The elders of the village gathered and sat across the wooden table awaiting to hear the broken Nepali from the white man. I sat on the edge completely distracted by the village children peering around the corner.
Isn’t it amazing how a picture can re-tell a story in such a way that we feel the warmth of the air, the smell of cardamom brewing over a kitchen fire, and hear the sound of Nepali whispers around the corner. It stirs my imagination and like a movie transports me back to the people, land, and beauty of Nepal.
This is my submission for [FRAMED]
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