This morning, I wandered into a small courtyard where a peony blooms beside a patch of growing rice; the bustle of nearby folks makes such a warm, lively rural scene.
Strolling by the damp ancient alley, the faint fishy scent blends with the mist from the mountain waterfall – time seems to linger here, no hunger to rush away.
[Charcoal chills paralyzed in the quiet, the clock on the wall ticks softly—warmth lingers from Nan’s effort. No extra words, just this gentle moment of stillness.],