A lone willow bends by the silent river, its branches tracing secrets on the water’s surface. An old fisherman rows slowly, his net cast into the shimmering twilight. He remembers a promise made decades ago beneath these very branches—a vow carried away by the current yet anchored in his heart. Each ripple tells a story of longing, each breeze hums a tune of patience. Tonight, the moon hangs full, painting a path of silver toward the horizon. He waits, not for fish, but for a shadow that may ...
