laughter runs ahead,
faster than the wind,
along a narrow path
between golden fields.

two children chase one another,
sleeves fluttering,
bare feet stirring dust
warmed by the sun.

houses breathe quietly,
smoke rising like memories,
as the village watches
life repeat itself gently.

“村” speaks of belonging —
not a place of stillness,
but a place where lives
move together.

watercolor captures
the warmth of shared days,
where every path is familiar,
and every voice is known.

perhaps home is not a building,
but the sound of footsteps,
running freely,
within a place that remembers us.