I walked up the path

Made from stone and rock

Breathing in the scent of moss and rain

Small wooden houses reared up on the hill

Several chimneys lit up with smoke

Breathing in the scent of fire and forest

I saw a man pushing a wheelbarrow

Filled to the brim with wood

He looked at me and greeted me, then said

Just a little village, nothing to see here

And then he was gone.