My Village

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My Village

The sun begins to rise gradually, spilling golden rays of light over the soaring mountains. A gentle breeze drifts through the lush forest as flocks of birds emerge from its depths, performing spectacular aerial displays in the dazzling morning sky. Down below, the sleeping village, tucked away inside the green valley, awakens to the sound of thundering church bells. Suddenly it is teeming with life as the villagers appear, welcoming the new day and attending to their daily morning affairs.

An old woman rides a grey donkey in the narrow, cobbled streets. Her hair is an aging, soft gray, her brown, wrinkly skin sags on her frail frame-she is old and crippled yet her black eyes, bright and twinkling, are full of joy and kindness. Behind her, a man with a moustache whistles merrily whilst taking his reluctant sheep to graze in the nearby pastures beside the lazy river. In the surrounding houses, people sit under shady vine trees, eating refreshing watermellon and grandfathers engage themselves in games of backgammon and cards.

As the day progresses however, the peaceful atmoshphere of the village is disturbed by the swarms of tourists who come to visit this