I can't forget a photo of the apricot-colored landscape of the Pakistani village of Hunza that was featured in a special feature in a daily newspaper a long time ago when I was in high school.
The photo contains the heartbreaking nostalgia of my youth.
I began dreaming of a Silk Road trip in the 1970s, when I didn't even know where Hunza was.
My exploration of the Silk Road felt like tackling a long-overdue assignment.
The West was also in my frequent dreams.
My real life also had its share of westward curves.
It was my annual ritual to take a break from my work and prepare for the journey I had longed for like a song my whole life.

- From the text