We finally reached the snow mountain.Walking all afternoon, and a whole after midnight, sometimes feel impossible to go on, sometimes produce a few steps to the illusion; Tired, breathless, and headache coexist, the air is as thin as rice paper soaked in water and dried out, swaying like the wishes of the stars; Above your head and beneath your feet, in the midst of all that is so much grander than you, ask yourself what the meaning of this march is. Does arrival, however muddled, automatically give meaning to the journey? Can not help but guess, those who have not experienced but no doubt similar moments, no doubt similar young people, what they thought, what kind of tone behind the questions.