In the year 1985, the village nestled in the heart of the mountains was a place of warmth and harmony.
The villagers lived simple yet fulfilling lives, relying on the land and their traditions to sustain them.
Wooden houses with sloping roofs lined the narrow dirt paths, their walls painted in earthy tones that blended seamlessly with the surrounding forest.
Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, filling the air with the scent of burning wood and cooking spices.
The villagers rose with the sun, their days beginning early. Farmers could be seen tending to their fields, their hands rough yet skilled as they turned the soil and scattered seeds.
Women gathered in small groups to weave baskets or embroider fabrics with vibrant threads, their laughter filling the air like the chime of bells.
Children played freely in the open fields, their shrill giggles echoing across the hills.
