The fog has gathered since he stepped into the valley, scattering the sunlight into light cyan. He feels the moist air, mingling with a special fragrance of dirt, and cannot refrain from immersing himself in vibrant nature. He keeps wandering. Maybe he can reach the hilltop, though he has apparently no choice in his direction. River gurgling and birds singing, he steps forward, feeling delighted. One step and another, the river flows away in distance, his view replaced by blossoms along the way, he appreciates, yet none leave with him. Enveloped in a sea of flowers, the river faded, or perhaps he has a faint unease deep in mind. Woods have come, shading flowers; he has no idea how far he has roamed. Fog thickens, dark grey glow, only a few pines in his view. Where the peak is and where the light falls, or is it the one his heart yearns for? He does not know, and neither do I. The only thing I am sure of is that wondering is a waste of time. And, he knows to keep walking.
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