Standing at the foot of Mt Fuji lies a small town, sitting by a lake and frozen in time. The lake's water was perfectly reflective and possessed an azure sheen, pure without a spec of imperfection on the water surface.
Mountains were painted on the horizon, their reflection resembled traditional watercolour, sitting peacefully at the foot of their owners. The soothing hum of the morning wind spiralled cherry blossoms together in a fluid motion, drifting in the snow-white sky. It was a time when the vast majority of people were still asleep and a time when the fisherman had long sailed out.
For once in my busy, cluttered life... it was just me... I was alone, with nothing but a timeless composition of beauty sharing its countless stories, with the cherry blossoms wisping in the wind.