Your funeral wreath shall be your mother's tears, Your tomb the sanded waste of foreign shores.

Our path across the trackless Changtang was littered with the impressive skulls and horns of wild yaks slaughtered by the modern-day poachers of Tibet. Yielding close to a tonne of meat, it pays to shoot a wild yak — provided that you own a truck to take your kill to the closest village or town hundreds of miles away. Unfortunately, the number of truck-owning Tibetan and Chinese poachers in certain parts of the Changtang is increasing rapidly.

He semeth a sysmatyke Or els an heretike, For fayth in hym is faynte.

Is this the Athenian minion whom the world / Voiced so regardfully?