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I love a certain feeling, one that exists within untouchable
dreams. I wander alone in unfamiliar cities, where the air carries a delightful
fragrance that seeps into my heart, and my eyes are filled with serene
landscapes of longing.
Tall poplar trees line the road, their green leaves swaying in the wind,
producing a sound akin to flowing water. The fresh foliage reflects a faint glow
in the sunlight. The cool breeze rushes by, making one feel as if they could
glide within it. The sky holds wisps of light clouds, a gentle shade of blue, so
light and pure. The sparsely branched trees on either side of the street bear no
remaining leaves, and their crisscrossing limbs create a pattern against the
azure sky. Not a single bird flies by.
Following the street, I come across a grand old tree on the roadside, its dense
branches obscuring the balconies across from it. The Egyptian blue shutters are
open, a birdcage hanging within, and the scent of incense lingers, wafting up in
wisps of white smoke. The vast expanse of green trees casts dappled shadows on
the pavement. When a motorcycle roars past, its piercing sound shatters and
disperses the reflections of the entire city.
Standing at the intersection, I see numerous alleys sprawling in all directions
like a maze before my eyes: colorful and enchanting little shops huddled
together closely. Sunlight dances on the golden advertisements displayed on
their facades, while weathered terraces burst with clusters of vibrant red
flowers...
I don't know how long I've been walking until I stumble upon an entire field of
sunflowers behind a brick wall. Those tall and magnificent circular blossoms
spread a rich, intense golden hue under the sunlight, splendidly stirring one's
emotions.
Perhaps this is a dream, or perhaps it's reality. Often, a person chooses to
walk, not out of desire or temptation, but simply because they hear the voice
within their own heart. Elusive beauty is destined to be pursued in a manner of
futility. Continuously walking, as I move forward, I allow beauty and time to
brush past my soul, as if traversing within the wind, knowing full well that I
gain nothing, yet my heart brims with fervor.
In the pursuit within dreams, though the endings are predetermined, the
beginnings are forgotten. All moments are hasty and blurred, yet I persist
repeatedly. My dream is so exquisite that it makes me feel its true existence.
Perhaps it is only in the moment of looking back that one can attain a clear and
bittersweet understanding, and only in the realm of belatedness can one fully
appreciate the beauty of an unregretful sentiment. |
