My hometown is nestled in a valley, surrounded by endless mountain ranges. Back then, as dusk fell and the scenery outside faded, the sounds of people calling each other home, the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen, and the children's playful shouts gradually faded. Then, house by house, lights were lit. The flickering light behind the windows, dimly visible under the eaves, house after house, looked from afar like tiny stars scattered among the mountains.
Illustration.
In the rural homes of our time, the small glass oil lamp was a familiar household item. The lamp body was transparent, containing kerosene inside, with a wick and a delicate glass shade on top. Whenever it was lit, the flame would flicker and then settle, emitting a soft yellow light, enough to illuminate a corner of the house.