You walked through the dense cluster of hazel trees with creeping weeds to the bottom of the ditch, but there was a spring water on the cliff. The oak tree greedily extended its palm branches to the surface of the water. The eldest brother’s silver blisters kept trembling from the bottom of the water to the bottom, covered with tiny soft moss. You drank enough water when you got down, but you were too lazy to move any more. You breathed fragrant moisture in the shade. However, the bush opposite you was hot in the sun and seemed to turn yellow. But what is this wind that suddenly blew around and the air trembled? Isn’t it thunder? You came from the ravine. What’s the lead on the horizon? Is the summer heat getting stronger or are the dark clouds coming? Look at a faint flash. It’s a thunderstorm coming. It’s still bright sunshine or hunting around, but the dark clouds are coming. The edge in front of the dark clouds gradually stretches like a sleeve and presses down like a dome. Everything around the grass and bushes gets dark as soon as it gets dark. Run quickly. It’s like a hay shed. Run quickly. You ran in. How heavy the rain is. How bright the flash is. The rain is shining through the grass. Sweet hay dripped from the roof of the shed, but look, the sun is coming again, the thunderstorm has passed, and you have come. Oh, my God, how bright and humid it is around, how fresh and humid it is, and how strong the smell of strawberries and mushrooms is.

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Oh, you see, dusk is coming, the sunset glow burns like…

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