Gexian Mountain Ⅰ The mountain does not come to see me, so I go to see the mountain

As I grow older, my travels are no longer solely for grand and magnificent scenes; a building or a road can be a reason. This time, I come to Gexian Village again purely for the endless mist and the negative ions that cannot be expressed in pictures or words. Both times I came to Gexian Village, it was rainy. Few people were on the road, and on both sides of the stone-paved streets were yellow walls and black tiles with wine flags and ancient lamps hanging. You must walk until dusk, when the mist turns blue, and the yellow lights come on. In a trance, it feels like being in Ninenzaka in Kyoto.