The sole of my shoe rubbed against a patch of cracked, dry mud. The rough resistance made me feel like I was having a deep dialogue with this land. I didn't rush to take a step, but slowly rolled along the cracks, listening to the earth's soft groans, like an old man stretching. The setting sun cast slanting rays of light on the cracks, creating golden shadows. I felt my heart brighten in this slow friction, a bright, almost burning light. It was as if I saw the traces of this land struggling in drought, and also saw the boundless vitality it contained. I squatted down, gently picked off a small piece of dry mud with my fingers, placed it in my palm, and felt it like... A piece of ancient fossil, recording the shape of wind and rain, I put this piece of dried mud into my pocket. It felt like a piece of burning coal, continuously transferring the heat from the earth to me. Wandering around, sometimes it's in these seemingly lifeless things that I feel the most vibrant life force. I stood up, feeling a heavy warmth in my pocket, making my steps more steady and my heart more resolute. Because I know that every inch of land I tread on once shone brightly, and my pocket is filled with these moments sealed by time, glowing faintly in the darkness, illuminating my path forward.
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