Wandering through the woods, he heard the birds chirping and the frogs croaking. The trees were just tall enough to block the sun from becoming a distraction. As he walked, the twigs and leafs he stepped on were merely white noise in the forest. He looked around for any more beauty, and he saw what he was looking for. A little stream trickling is a steady fashion.

The stream was the most prefect creation among the Earth. It was running over shining rocks and under fallen logs. The water was ice-cold to the touch and freezing to the taste. The heavenly stream empties into a little pond, abound with fish. He sat there, thinking. Watching.

Hours, which seemed like minutes, passed by as he sat there watching the water. When he snapped out of his trance he realized that it was nearly dark. He stood up and saw fireflies illuminating the sky. He started his trek home. Stuck in perpetual motion towards home, listening to the sounds of animals and nature. He finally arrived to his humble abode. And when he stepped foot into his yard, he couldn’t help but to think about returning to that oasis.

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