La niebla cae esta tarde. (It's foggy this afternoon)
When Granada enters autumn, it always gets foggy in the evening. The wind in the mountain city blew the old stone alley, and the shadow of the mosque bell tower in the distance swayed in the fog. Wen Yu stood in front of an old cloth shop called "La Higuera" in low-heeled leather shoes.
She rang the doorbell three times, but no one answered.
The door was open, and the sound of the loom's slow shuttle coming from inside was like the rhythm of repeatedly returning from time.
She walked inside. The old wooden windows were half-open, and the sunlight was shining in. The cloth shop was filled with the smell of dye and the silence reflected from the plaster walls. A man, with his back to her, was re-tensioning the weft threads on the cloth machine, his movements slow and focused.
The man paused and turned to look at her. He didn't answer, nodded, and just put his fingertips lightly on the edge of the cloth frame, as if he was afraid of disturbing the texture of the thread.
She took out her business card and said in English: "I am a researcher, here to discuss intangible cultural heritage cooperation."
He still didn't speak, but slowly stopped the cloth machine, walked over, and put a ceramic cup in front of her, which contained cold orange blossom tea.
Conception:-