On the banks of the river I can look down from my house, did I make a small garden. When I moved here in September last year, there were some greens left, but autumn was before long. With a small river in between, I was in the city, leaving my eyes and soul in the low mountains, the river and the desolate fields after harvests. Who said seeing is wanting? Last winter, I kept visiting the village across the bridge, whenever possible, looking for small gardens and rural houses. Told off for doing so despite my business by people around me, I changed my mind.