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 like autumn leaves. Legend says this river carries dreams from the mountain villages. Children whisper their wishes to the current, hoping they’ll reach the sea by morning. Tonight, the moon hangs like a silver lantern, illuminating the path for those lost thoughts. The wi...
