Prietenul meu Omar scrie uneori despre lucruri extreme de importante, chiar dacă nu uşor de desluşit, la fel cum, de obicei, le pictează. Pentru că mi s-a făcut tare dor de părţile lumii unde, noi, omuleţi ai oraşelor, nu prea mergem (decît în căutarea a ceva foarte important dar ce anume nu ştim prea bine) am să-mi încep drumul spre ‘zăpada linştii’ cu un fragment dintr-o aventură de-a sa:
Some of the group continued onwards to see a glacier which was further up but I remained where I was, pleased to be alone. There were some huge boulders that were presumably swept down by ancient ice which I proceeded to climb up onto. From there I could look down the whole lands, past miles and miles of snow and dark pine forest. Mist was creeping up the valley, soon to engulf us. I became aware how silent this land was. There was not a sound to be heard. I thought back and realised that I had not even seen a bird up here. There were no airplanes, we were far from any flight path. No telephone masts, nothing. It was the most profound silence I have ever felt and it gave me an inexplicable feeling. There is no ord for it. I lit a cigarette and inhaled the smoke mixed with the mountain air. I’ll be searching for that silence for the rest of my life.