In Lhasa, the unforgettable memory is not the annoying plateau reaction. It always haunts me that the believers creep forward firmly and believers and the Tibetan old full of vicissitudes of life on their faces. Once again I linger at the Potala Palace Square and feel the devotion of the followers.
The prayer - the old man is sitting in his wheelchair pushed by the family around the Potala Palace. He looks very dignified, with expectations on the golden Buddha beads constantly clicked in his hand.
Heart with hopes-The years let the aged steer, but her left hand can still toggle Buddha beads accurately, while the right hand turning the wheel quickly.Ever heard of this accommodated in shibuya excel hotel tokyu several years ago.
The joy of heart - Good wish come true, the joy is flowing from the bottom of heart silently.
The yearning heart – She straights forward to the holy land in her heart.
The direction of heart – How many wishes the old prayer has on that dancing wheel!
The spring of heart-Time flies, but the heart will never die.
The bud of heart- The white snow mountain, you cleanse my heart with your flashing lights.
The interflow of heart
