Newbie submission~~~
In the deep mountains and old forests, the slightest drizzle makes it half hazy, two minutes blurred, and five minutes clear. I look at an old man, holding a crutch, wearing a bucket on his head, and wearing a raincoat, sitting in front of a tomb, talking for a long time.
Under the dead vines and old trees, the crows were chirping wildly, the heavy rain was beginning to clear, and it was quite cold. A woman was serving chicken, duck, fish and meat, a plate of flowers and fruit wine, and three glasses of white wine. She was crying loudly and sobbing softly. There were several layers of paper money and a flickering fire.
A family, holding several incense sticks, sat across from each other and bowed three times; an old monk, uttering Sanskrit words, sat in the temple; a couple and a child were walking on the bank of the Qianjiang River; a group of travelers, lightning and thunder, pointed at the sky and laughed wildly. It's permanent, it's not permanent. Life and death are common things, but recovery is also a major event. Life comes out of nowhere, and death leaves with a smile. This is a blessing.