Hello everyone

In the blazing heat of the day, my sister and I were driving back home. It was around 6:00 p.m., and that's when the sky usually puts on its best show during sunset. We took a shortcut that passed through the village. Along the way, we could see the rice fields and the mountains in the distance. They weren't as green as they are during the rainy season, but they still had this special charm to them.

As we drove, we passed by a place where buffaloes were kept. It was kind of cool seeing them munching on dry straw. Today, after we came back from the Mae Sot market, I asked my sister to stop the car near the buffalo pen. These days, seeing animals like that is getting rarer. It felt good to just take a moment and appreciate them, you know? Like, in a world that's always changing, it's nice to see some things stay the same.

As I stepped out of the car, I couldn't resist the urge to capture the serene scene unfolding before me. Walking over to a small hut near the buffalo pen, I politely asked for permission to take some photos of the magnificent creatures. The people there seemed puzzled, wondering why someone would want to photograph buffaloes, which to them were just everyday animals, not the exotic creatures you'd find in a zoo.

But to me, every living being has its own unique charm, and I found the buffalo's rugged beauty captivating. Growing up in a rural area, I had a special connection with these animals. I remembered the days when my dad and I would rise early, around 5:00 a.m., to tend to our own buffalo. With my dad leading the way, we'd head to the rice fields, the buffalo plowing the earth while I perched atop its sturdy back. It was a simple yet profound ritual, a bond between father, son, and beast, as we made our way down the familiar path, with my mother preparing food for us to enjoy later.

In the past, buffaloes were more than just livestock; they were companions and helpers, woven into the fabric of everyday life for Isaan people like us. And as I snapped photos of the buffalo before me, memories flooded back, reminding me of the simpler times and the father who had left this world long ago. Each click of the camera shutter was not just a photograph but a tribute to a bygone era and the cherished moments shared with those gentle giants.

As I drew closer to the buffalo pen, my attention was drawn to a pregnant female buffalo standing nearby. She approached the fence as if sensing my presence and extended her snout, sniffing curiously. Without hesitation, I reached out and gently rubbed her head, feeling the coarse texture of her fur beneath my fingers. In response, she emitted a soft snort, a sound that seemed to convey a sense of recognition and comfort.

Surveying the scene before me, I noticed a diverse array of buffaloes within the enclosure: males, females, and several other pregnant females like the one I had just encountered. Amidst them all, a tiny newborn buffalo caught my eye, its small frame and wobbly steps indicating its recent arrival into the world.

Despite the size and strength of the buffaloes, there was a peaceful atmosphere within the pen. Alongside the lumbering giants, chickens darted about, scavenging for scraps of food and adding a lively energy to the tranquil setting. It was a harmonious coexistence, a snapshot of rural life where animals roamed freely, each playing their part in the intricate tapestry of existence.

Despite my reservations about the sunset atmosphere in the countryside, which often evoked feelings of loneliness and homesickness within me, I couldn't deny the undeniable beauty that enveloped the rural landscape as evening descended.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the fields and painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, I found myself reluctantly captivated by the breathtaking scenery unfolding before me. The tranquility of the countryside seemed to amplify the beauty of the sunset, casting a spell of serenity over the land.

Though the solitude of the countryside sometimes weighed heavy on my heart, there was a certain magic to be found in the quiet moments of dusk, a reminder of the simple joys that could be found in nature's embrace. And as I watched the sun sink lower and lower, casting long shadows across the land, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the opportunity to witness such natural splendor, even amidst my own inner turmoil.

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