We met the riders at the edge of a valley about an hour before sundown. The oldest of them spoke a dialect of Khampa I could only half-follow. They were heading up to the summer pastures — four days’ ride, they said. When I asked if I could photograph them, the oldest turned his horse so the late sun would fall on the others.
© Sonam Zoksang. All rights reserved. For editorial, scholarly, or exhibition inquiries, see Inquiries.