On the edge of Ngozumpa, the longest glacier in the Himalayas. It was here I heard true silence for the first time. No people, no machines in valley nor sky; only the eagles soundlessly soaring above. I had to hold my breath to hear it — the way a vast natural quiet draws everything that is far intimately close: a pebble falling on the far side of the valley falls at my feet, an eagle’s wing brushes my face. The glacier sighs and continues the march South.