Abandoned cup

I’m not sure exactly what this cup is made of, but that’s not important. In its own way, it is unique. The woman who was holding it a few seconds earlier put it down on this windowsill after drinking a strong tea with milk and sugar. We are in the Himalayas. Tibet is not far. Here, they drink tea to warm body and soul. The cup is worn through daily use, and discoloured from the tea. It has become a familiar object: quietly reliable, available, reassuring.
This cup makes me think of all the victims of the Nepal tragedy, of all the lost lives. I think: how many cups of tea await those who will never return? How many lives have been destroyed by these climate disasters?