The mountains of the Himalaya are sliced without their permission to make roads upon which ugly vehicles will pass. Where they are cut, sand along with little rocks spill out continuously.
Those who sliced the mountains are also tasked with keeping the roads clean. The sand is cleaned off every day, and every day more sand arrives on the road quietly.
The sand is not sand but blood — golden-yellow and rough. The mountains that have stood here for centuries are now wounded and bleeding. They are no longer themselves.