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On the other side of the Lethe River, the destination of the soul is like an undried ink painting, hazy and far-reaching.
The river of time flows slowly, carrying endless thoughts and memories to that mysterious and quiet world.
The flowers on the other side bloom, red as fire, white as snow, they bloom between forgetting and remembering, blooming is the enthusiasm and determination of life, telling the persistence and letting go in reincarnation.
Each flower is the end of a story and a prologue to a new life, and they interpret the deepest philosophy of life in silence.
The soul is like smoke, ethereal between the virtual and the real, looking for your own reflection in the light of the Lethe River.
Those laughter, tears, sorrows and joys were washed and purified at this moment, turned into invisible power, and nourished that secluded spiritual soil.
The other side is not the end, but a transition, a detachment, and a deep reflection on the nature of life.
Every soul is like a butterfly breaking out of its cocoon, passing through the coldness of Lethe River and looking for the eternal tranquility and warmth in the depths of the heart.
On the other side of the Lethe River, life and death are no longer clearly demarcated between the two sides of the strait, but a silent dialogue, a deep gaze.
The soul dances leisurely in it, bathed in the moonlight and stars, following the guidance of fate, towards the distant but close destination, moving forward firmly.