He sits by the edge of the West Lake and eats his lunch which he bought off an old lady peddling her home-cooked food. The waters lap lazily at his feet while boats ferry people to and from the Island of Small Seas directly ahead of him. One out of many dotting the lake. Overhead, leafy willow trees shade him and old men fishing on both his sides from the slight drizzle, evident only from the small ripples on the surface of the large lake. He hears the lively chatter of people strolling leisurely behind him along the disjointed causeways linked by graceful arched bridges spanning the lake. Pavilions refresh the weary with scenic views of the lake and the lush green mountains that surround and protect it. Solitary pagodas can be seen on their rolling slopes, propounding the Dharma and testifying the splendour of the Tang Dynasty.
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