outside, mountain mist so thick you need to cut it with a knife to reveal the water beneath;
inside, the gentle aroma of oolong tea leaves stewing in the pot; the sizzle of the fire heating up the kettle; and the rise and fall of soft voices in lazy conversation, a blend of Japanese and Taiwanese and Mandarin. We dallied until dusk.
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hevertton 1:46 pm on March 17, 2012 | #
trabalho? arte? talvez um pouco dos dois, mas na essência é sonmente e inteiramente pura fantasia!
lichia 10:17 am on April 23, 2012 | #
obrigado
é apenas um sonho…