The Pentaki Slopes are a darned thing. If you climb them from the North, you’ll find a long, exhausting path leading all the way to the top. Muffly rumbling clouds embrace an atmosphere that’s getting thinner and thinner, making your temples throb coldly and almost life threateningly – it’s minimalism made of ice, stone and the closeness to the stars. When you reach something resembling the top of the mountain (if there was one), you’ll find a plateau waiting. It is the one and only place of truth, according to religious leaders, CEOs and gurus. Kangding Ray has asked them all. But truth is not always pleasent. To defy its loneliness, the north side swarms with life. Voices of ghosts overlay the dystopia, trying to confuse you when carefully stepping across shattered forms. And before you know it, there’s nothing but the abyss underneath your feat (to be precise – it’s exactly after three minutes and nine seconds; what a short joy for summiteers). Where you would expect the south side, you’ll find a void of oblivion. Incidentally, you’ll reach the south side only from the foot of the Pentaki Slopes. It’s an endless yet smooth rise, seemingly pointing upwards but leading into the depths. We follow without being asked, smiling to ourselves. No one is going to reach the top this way. But many people still call it their favorite place. Who cares about the truth when you can have dreams instead?