A lone willow bends by the silent river, its branches tracing secrets on the water’s surface. An old fisherman rows his boat slowly, humming a tune forgotten by time. He casts his net not for fish, but for memories drifting in the current. Moonlight stitches silver threads through the leaves tonight. The wind carries echoes of ancient poetry—verses about farewells and enduring love. Here, past and present blur like ink in rain. He remembers her laughter, bright as summer ripples, and the prom...
