You should have traveled through countless worlds before you occasionally set foot on this river.
You have seen the noisy and prosperous city, and you have also seen countless desolate places like here. You often leave in a hurry at a glance, but this time, you began to slow down, and you were even willing to stop and watch.
On this bridge, you saw the river rushing towards the rising sun gradually turning into the same color as the sky.
You see the islet in the middle of the river where emerald green mustard grows, the solid-colored or mottled birds are rising and falling between you and the distance, and the weeping willows are waving to you.
You go down the moss-covered stone steps, untie the rope of the small boat on the wooden pile beside it, and drift away into the distance.
You begin to wonder about the source of this river and the story before it came here.
You find that what you want to see is actually more - how countless rivers can merge into the same ocean, where the clear water from the snow-capped mountains has rolled up the yellow sand, and how the dense pebbles on the downstream river beach have been worn away little by little.
It takes some time to explore and understand.
Are you willing to wait for me at this bridge, waiting for me to drive you in a donkey cart to find the beauty worthy of your longing?
But the donkey is sometimes very lazy and likes to stop and go on the road.
You can pick up the whip for me sternly, or hang a carrot on a fishing rod gently.
It just needs a little prodding and it will do better.
Intention: None