A Jars of Thoughts: The雅舍
Where the mountains meet the fields, where the walls and the trees intertwine, where night falls on a hilltop with its faint moonlight, it is here that my thoughts find their home. I live in "雅舍" — a house built on the edge of the mountains, where the wind blows so coldly against the windows that I cannot sleep without it.
The building itself is made of stone, though not solidly constructed. It has walls that are rough and uneven, with leaves that fall like raindrops, but as tall as they are wide. The ground slopes gently from one side to the other, and when looking up at it in the distance, you see rolling hills that resemble the paths of life itself — winding and uncertain.
There is a place of quiet here, where the world around you seems to dissolve into silence. It is your home. Your thoughts. And it is a thought that only exists in "雅舍". The moment you open a book, you meet someone who is waiting for you. They will tell you one thing after another — stories and memories and hopes.
In my rooms there are six, but not all of them are the same. Each has its own story. Some are quiet, others are lively. But no matter what you do, your heart finds a place here. It is a time when thoughts find their way to their correct places, and where love and longing are heard in silence.
The "雅舍" also serves as a mirror — a reflection of the world around you. You can see it, but only in fragments. The walls are broken, but not broken away; they are just left as is. The windows are jagged, but there is no repair to be done. And yet, even these fragments make their way into your thoughts.
There is a quiet beauty here. It is a beauty that you cannot see until it has happened. It is a beauty that does not speak, nor do you understand, nor can it communicate. But it is a beauty you have never seen before.
But there are things to be said about this house. It is small — small in the way that your thoughts find their home here. Small yet deep. Small but so rich with meaning.
And so, for all its simplicity and brevity, "雅舍" has become a part of my life. A space where I can hold everything, to think, to remember, to hope. And it is this space that allows me to find solace in the quietest places of the world — not the mountains or the fields, but just here, on this mountain.
The "雅舍" also tells a story about love and longing. It is a place where you can meet someone who knows you from far away, though only through your thoughts. It is a place where you can find beauty in silence, where you can hold everything — the hope, the loss, the love that makes this world so interesting.
In "雅舍", I have found that my thoughts are not just reflections of me; they are part of me. They carry the weight of the world around me, and when they do not find their way to their correct places, it can be a sign that we are all missing something.
But in this moment — here at "雅舍" — I see myself for who I am today, not tomorrow. For today, I am here, with my thoughts. And as long as the "雅舍" is open to your thoughts, then it will remain a home where love and hope are found, wherever they may be.
And with that, I shall go on, reflecting on the "雅舍" as if to remind me of the words on the page — not the words themselves, but what they do in my hands. What they make me think, what they shape me into, what they tell me about myself and others. And even more than that — it tells me something about this place, about all that is out there.
But for now, I shall stay, here at "雅舍", where thoughts find their home, and where love finds its quietst form.
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