A gentle stream meanders through the mossy stones, its murmur a timeless song. An old willow tree dips its branches into the clear water, tracing circles that vanish as quickly as they form. A lone heron stands still, a statue of patience in the shallow end, waiting for its moment. Two children, with baskets in hand, skip along the bank, their laughter blending with the babble of the water. They are chasing butterflies, their small feet imprinting the soft earth. The sun filters through the c...
