White doves fly over the trees, soaking up the warmth of the clouds and fading away from the cold night. The tips of their wings carry a gentle breeze that spreads over the mist-wrapped grass stems, and even the darkness in the corners of the wall is quietly swept away. When a beam of light spreads across the sky, first brightening the branches, and then breaking through the mist and falling on your shoulders, you will know: No one has determined your whereabouts, and you can embark on the journey to freedom. Don't be trapped by the common sight, don't worry about the twists and turns, the wind will lead to the bright place.
The mist is the folds of the heart, hiding the tiny pieces of sadness. It has been piled in the bottom of the heart for a long time and has forgotten to stretch out. The light opens through the cracks, first leaking in a bit of star-like brightness, and then slowly spreading out, warming the coolness in the folds. There is no need to rush, stop when you are tired, watch the fog disperse, listen to the soft wind, and embrace yourself tenderly every time you stop.
Concept: Does what the eyes see must be real?