Step into a golden moment of myth and wonder. There's a tree in Persian tales that isn't just a tree—its fruits awaken with faces and songs, a chorus of tiny lives humming ancient melodies under a sunburnt sky.
I find myself captivated watching the waq waq tree sway, gentle branches bringing old colors to life. At first, it's silent; the man beside it, a keeper of brushes and puppets, seems to wait too. But look closer—the fruit-creatures blink awake, stories flickering behind curious eyes. Their small hands move, their mouths widen, growing more animated with every second.
Then music unfurls. The fruits don't just sing, they play, weaving notes with tiny limbs, sharing joy and mystery that's somehow both familiar and impossibly new. It's a brief moment—a heartbeat in art history—yet it leaves me with a sense that Persian myth still breathes across centuries, and that magic is never as far away as it seems.
I hope you felt the shimmer in this fleeting scene. Long after the last note drifts into memory, the waq waq tree stands: a living bridge between tradition and imagination.
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