in the quaint village that i stumbled upon during my travels, the donkeys carried an air of furtive mischief, as if they held secrets they refuse to acknowledge openly. their behavior seemed preinductive of a world where manual labor still reigns supreme, a place untainted by the hustle of modernity. watching them, i couldn't help but feel the urge to start again, to rediscover the simple wonders that life has to offer, through the eyes of these wise, silent companions.