The old woman sat on the park bench, a worn leather-bound journal resting on her lap. The sun, a gentle hand, warmed her face as she traced the faded ink of a youthful entry. "My dream," it read, "is to climb Mount Fuji." Back then, it had seemed impossible, a distant peak shrouded in myth and legend. Yet, there she was, decades later, the memory of that exhilarating climb still vivid in her mind.
She smiled, remembering the struggle, the fear, the breathtaking beauty. The dream, once a distant star, had become a constellation of memories,...