The way home in the Hijau Valley

In a calm valley, hidden from the hustle and bustle of the city, there is a small winding road that divides the expanse of green rice fields. The blue sky decorated with white clouds hanging beautifully over the head, as if he was watching the life of the village life. Coconut trees towering on the side of the road, swinging softly in the wind that carries the aroma of young rice and wet soil.

In the middle of the rice fields, standing a tiny white house with a striking red roof, a marker of human life in the middle of a natural green stretch. The house seemed to be a silent witness over the morning full of jokes, quiet afternoon, and hopeful dusk. In the distance, the mountains covered by tropical forests standing dashing, keeping the small village from a continuing time.

The atmosphere feels peaceful and familiar, like a warm hug that is always awaited after being tired of traveling a long journey. This small road is not only a connecting lane between houses or fields, but the road that carries memories, hopes, and longing. Every curve keeps a story, every stone on his edge knows the direction of going home.

This is a portrait of harmony between nature and humans the place where time goes slow, but the heart feels full. A place that might be simple, but always able to make anyone feel intact again.

Thank you for all