Idyll and Wisps of Smoke. Beautiful Things Still Happen - Text Postcard - Qing Qing's Island

That day, I settled into a small cabin in a tiny village nestled between the mountains and a stream. The quiet, rainy village made time seem to flow differently than usual. We drank tea, cooked meals, and took walks, spending two ordinary days just like this. Inside the house, I watched the rain fall and the rain stop; I let the lights turn on and turn off. Time left its imprints on the ancient walls. At that moment, a line of poetry from afar gently knocked on my heart's door. It was a moment I had to write. I know the texture of my words is born from the soil; I may not reach the hallowed halls, but all of this still feels so beautiful to me. Looking up, I searched the cloudy sky for a star. In that instant, I truly discovered how precious it is to be someone who always looks up, seeking beautiful things. Lying in bed, my soul steeped in softness, in the darkness, I thanked the world from the depths of my heart for bringing me here. Embrace beauty and kindness; laugh; live simply; genuinely appreciate certain things; know what is most important. And then, be honest with yourself and the world. Tomorrow, or rather, every day... I truly wish to become a person like this. - "I Came Here" Between the mountain and the stream The earth stretches out its hands Gently cradling a small village The people who arrive at the village Look forward to the sunshine But what always comes is the rain But the rain is like me, too It has journeyed over mountains and crossed rivers To arrive at this day To arrive at this very moment To meet the window before my eyes I think I don't necessarily need clear skies. - The silent village Time's shape elongated So I indulged in Napping, drinking tea, cooking meals And walking Walking very, very slowly Just like this Savoring the days As if searching for a star in the sky - Watching the rain fall, the rain stop Watching the lights turn on, the lights turn off Watching the light and shadows shift on the old walls with time I wait here I wait here Waiting for a poem To ask me to write it down Waiting for it to draw out the purest essence Of what I possess And become a better person on my behalf - And I understand it deeply. I am not that kind of bright and pure soul Not in the hallowed halls, I am living on the soil But beautiful things still happen - Actually When I look up It's not that I must necessarily find a star The most precious thing Is this longing for and belief in beautiful things As an ordinary person The greatest compassion the world offers me Is this heart that is always willing to look up at the stars - The long day has ended. Embracing beauty and kindness Always smiling, living simply Genuinely appreciating Knowing what is most important Being honest with oneself and the world Ah, tomorrow I still really wish to become a person like this.