Snow becomes glacier ice under pressure—like God pressing a thousand winters together until all the air is squeezed out. That old, dense ice absorbs every colour except blue, so it glows like a piece of sky trapped in the mountain. But the trekkers say the blue is from purity—I say it's from loneliness, like my grandfather's eyes after he lost his land. I saw that same blue in the ice on the Roopkund trek, just before we found the skeletons.
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