The Apricot Blossoms Bloom Again in That Mountain Village

In a small mountain village in the northwest, countless stories unfolded, generation after generation, year after year, unknown and unnoticed. Over thousands of years of history, every inch of land has held stories worth singing and weeping over. We are only a drop in the river of history, passersby among the countless people, and no one has ever paid us any mind. Yet our own lives are full of memories, so many that we can savor them endlessly. Like a drop in the river of history, we too can see our own light shining. Ordinary people have their own loves and hates, joys and sorrows, and tangled feelings that can never be fully told. Every life is a song of partings and reunions, joys and griefs, endlessly singing of the world’s vicissitudes.