That will not bring back the things we love: the high, clear days and the blue icecaps on the mountains; the lines of white poplars fluttering in the wind, and the long white prayer flags† Nor shall we get back the smell of the beanfields; the sweet, resinous smell of deodar wood burning, or the whiff of a snow leopard at14,000 feet. Never. Never. Never.

-Chatwin, Bruce
  Introduction to Robert Byron's The Road to Oxiana.