内容摘要：“I sobbed when I heard that song,” said the 32-year-old. “It was just such a special thing that I have felt in my life… but it’s also got this ‘please don’t leave me, it’ll kill me’ kind of vibe.”

“I sobbed when I heard that song,” said the 32-year-old. “It was just such a special thing that I have felt in my life… but it’s also got this ‘please don’t leave me, it’ll kill me’ kind of vibe.”

Konchok Dorjey sits inside a mud house of a neighbor in his remote, native Kharnak village in the cold desert region of Ladakh, India, Saturday, Sept. 17, 2022. (AP Photo/Mukhtar Khan)Nomad Gyaltsan Zangpo and village head, center, prepares dinner as his wife, sitting, prepares dough for bread inside their mud house kitchen in remote Kharnak village in the cold desert region of Ladakh, India, Saturday, Sept. 17, 2022. (AP Photo/Mukhtar Khan)

Nomad Gyaltsan Zangpo and village head, center, prepares dinner as his wife, sitting, prepares dough for bread inside their mud house kitchen in remote Kharnak village in the cold desert region of Ladakh, India, Saturday, Sept. 17, 2022. (AP Photo/Mukhtar Khan)Dorjey’s wife, Sonam Kunkhen, expressed contentment about their flight from old village.“It’s better here for me and my family,” the 47-year-old woman said. “It took us a while to adjust, but I’m glad we moved here.”

On a recent sunny day, Dorjey drove to his native village Kharnak where he met his maternal uncle, Tsering Choldan. The 64-year-old nomad announced to him that he too was leaving soon. Other shepherds were also packing up their bags.Former nomad Dawa Tundup sits inside a mosquito net along with his wife Tashi Lamo outside their home in Kharnakling village near Leh town in the cold desert region of Ladakh, India, Thursday, Sept. 15, 2022. (AP Photo/Mukhtar Khan)

Former nomad Dawa Tundup sits inside a mosquito net along with his wife Tashi Lamo outside their home in Kharnakling village near Leh town in the cold desert region of Ladakh, India, Thursday, Sept. 15, 2022. (AP Photo/Mukhtar Khan)

Dorjey pointed out that the village in recent years had received considerable attention as authorities built some prefab huts for nomads and spruced up animal feed facilities. But he said he was skeptical by experience that such facilities would stop migration.British archaeologists first discovered the sand-filled tombs in the 1930s, awed by the colorful paintings on the wall depicting vibrant grape vines twining their way around birds, animals, and mythological characters.

But for nearly a century, the site was dormant and closed to the public to protect the paintings. As new apartment buildings sprouted around the area, the city decided to turn the site into an educational park and renovate the tombs to allow public visits.“This tomb has wonderful paintings that were preserved remarkably well, and that’s surprising considering that the time that has passed and the location next to the sea, the humidity, the sand, the winds, everything affects the plaster and the paintings,” said Anat Rasiuk, an archaeologist with the Antiquities Authority.

The tombs, located a few hundred meters from the beach, were likely the burial place for aristocratic Romans some 1,700 years ago, when Ashkelon was a Roman city, according to archaeologists.The vibrant paintings, which stretch across the vaulted ceiling and include intricate designs across the walls, show nymphs with lotus plant wreaths, birds, deer, children picking bunches of grapes, a figure playing Pan’s flute, and figures from Greek mythology such as Demeter, the goddess of the earth and grain, and the head of Medusa, with her hair made of snakes, that were also adopted by Roman mythology.