A fishing village was nestled beside an enormous lake.
On the other side lay a dense thicket of banyan trees. From a distance, the thought of venturing into the forest felt like a challenge of courage. But ever since a couple had settled there, the villagers found themselves drawn to trek under the ominous branches, hoping for a rare glimpse of the heavenly beings that had settled there.
In a small clearing stood a humble cottage, built of bamboo and mahogany. A row of marigolds lined the gravel road leading to its entrance, while two small vegetable gardens were carefully tended on either side.
Before even seeing the cottage, you could hear the rhythmic tapping of bamboo as it filled with water, striking a rock in the process. The tranquil atmosphere was welcoming, and even the sounds from the kitchen added to the homely feel.
"Did we forget the onions?"
"Hmm, it does taste onion-less..."
"Oh no, we promised Grandma Jean we would have her soup by noon."
