A hazy morning in Besishahar.
A sort of sad and strange welcome to Nepal moment happened. As I rounded a corner cruising along enjoying the cool morning breeze, I spotted a man carrying something. As I got closer it became clear that it was medium sized dead white dog dangling by a rear leg. Just before I passed him he neared the steep edge of the road and gave it a toss. As it twirled in the air, it made me think of a tale involving Jack Black, a burrito, and a dog named Baxter.
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