Sitting on the Edge of the Cornfield

In mid-summer, I sit on the field ridge and look up at the gray sky. There are occasionally flocks of birds, and there are also solitary birds. There are a few rays of light in the western sky. I listen to the sound of running water next to me. From time to time, I hear a few birdsong, and I can't tell which bird it is. The sound of hundreds of birds is not an exaggeration at all. These birdsongs are different, but they are very harmonious. Accompanying these sweet birdsongs is the sound of belts pumping water around me. Sounds, the buzzing of flies and mosquitoes that surround me, the barking of dogs and cows in the distant villages, the honking of cars on the highway, the occasional roaring of airplanes from above, the cicada cries in the fields, the sound of shovels digging into the soil... If I knew music, I would definitely record these beautiful sounds and make a beautiful song. Of course, the most beautiful of these sounds must be the questions and answers of my parents. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.