A gentle stream meanders through the mossy stones, humming an ancient tune under the moon’s soft glow. Willow branches dip their leaves into the cool water, drawing ripples that dance like silver fish. An old fisherman’s boat rests by the bank, its wood weathered by decades of quiet dawns. Here, time flows slower than the current, carrying tales of distant mountains and forgotten rains. Sometimes, the wind brings echoes of poets who once lingered here, their verses now woven into the rustling...
