The days in Inner Mongolia are as peaceful as when my mother was a baby. There is no crowded traffic in the city, no constant noise, and no shortcomings of modern civilization. There is only a kind of spaciousness and tranquility, and a kind of piety that comes from the depths of my heart. What could be more attractive to the souls wrapped and suppressed by the city than the indulgent singing under the blue sky and the free breathing without pollution on the snow-capped mountains?