How long has it been since you've seen real land?
It's not the neatly mowed lawn in the park, nor the soft soil in the flower bed. It's the kind of... Soil that harbors all kinds of weird bugs, that has been burrowed by field mice, that will prick your ankles during the fall harvest. That kind of land with a wild temper
She walked to the entrance of the village, blew in the wind, looked at the flowers, and basked in the sun. The wind only needs to gently stir the branches to spread the fragrance of flowers everywhere. The sun was unbiased, just enough for her to squint and take a nap.
Intention: I don't know what my intention is. Wherever I write it, it will go naturally.