The Wind Blowing from Afar

The moon wheel of Erhai Lake sinks behind Cangshan Mountain, and the ancient city breathes in the deepest blue ink before dawn. I stepped on the bluestone soaked by night dew and returned to the "Yunqi" Inn. My heart felt as if it had been washed away by the perfect moon tide last night. It was empty, but unexpectedly it no longer hurt so sharply. It was as if the heaviness accumulated over the past ten years had been eroded and diluted layer by layer by Dali's gentle wind and clear light, leaving a huge hole that was no longer bleeding. This void is no longer a black hole that swallows everything, but more like a piece of clean sand patiently washed out by the tide, waiting to be slowly filled with new, gentle light.