The road that leads straight to the horizon (Xinjiang self-driving tour)

Leaving the main area of ​​Sayram Lake, we headed west. The road stretched straight, like a simple brushstroke across the landscape. All around us lay endless grasslands, and in the distance, snow-capped mountains stood silently, like distant guardians. Sunlight filtered through the clouds, shimmering across the golden grass, its playful light and shadow making the scenery seem to breathe. There were no clamorous crowds or sightseeing buses, only the sound of wind, cloud shadows, and the clatter of wheels. What struck me most about the journey wasn't the destination, but the profound silence of the journey. Sitting in the car, I couldn't close my eyes, afraid to miss the new scenery around every corner. That day, we stopped on a slope with a vast view. Ahead lay hills covered in yellow grass, and in the background, snow-capped peaks. Without any filters, the photos I snapped on my phone looked like wallpaper. Standing in the wind, I felt a slight shiver on my body, but my heart felt a peace I'd never felt before. I believe travel isn't about finding something, but about letting go. And this place is precisely the place where one can let go. Some say Xinjiang's scenery is so vast that it makes one feel insignificant, but I believe that's a perfect measure of humility. When you're in the presence of such nature, you unconsciously withdraw your focus, leaving only to observe and experience. As I left, I glanced back at the straight road, which seemed to lead to the end of the world. Perhaps I'll return in the future, but even if I don't, this journey has already been deeply engraved in my heart, like the blue sky and golden grasslands, never fading.