There is a kind of beauty that has been baptized by time and tempered by years. This kind of beauty is not the beauty of emptiness, but the story and power of the aftermath behind the appearance.
I imagine there is a lost place, buildings are weathered away, but plants growing wildly. Creatures and fairies whispering day and night. There was a terrible war in this seemingly peaceful place, and everything here now is the aftermath of the disaster. Like ruins, preserved on the land as a testimony to past experiences. This beauty invites exploration of what has been experienced here, with mixed emotions of sadness and admiration. But romance in the ruins is not just an expression of despair, it's a reflection of having fought hard in its own time. This lost place remind us that bad things happen all the time and nothing lasts forever, but try to keep ourselves alive and time will heal.
We will encounter a lot of pain in the process of recognizing this world. These pains may come from inner demands, spiritual unsatisfying, outer pressure, etc. These pains may be destructive and indelible to us at that moment. But we must persevere, even if we are dragging our scarred body, we must overcome it.
When the victor's dawn, when the sun rises, fairies will appear, plants will grow, and life will flourish. We will be reborn with beauty and strength.
