A day in Naranya begins with the sound of insects, as cicadas live out their final life cycle, and the people of Naranya tolerate these noisy neighbors with patience.
They step out of their cottages as the morning dew is about to dissipate, embarking on a new day.
The tavern in the early morning is far from the bustle of last night, with only a few scattered customers patronizing the establishment.
In Lyle's room where he is resting, a sprig of tender green grapevine juts out of the window, resembling a baby's unruly little hand; its leaves reach out in the sunlight—such a charming sight would certainly delight anyone who first lays eyes upon it upon waking.
But, should there be a need to get up, Ralph is always his own alarm clock.
The opened door came with neither knock nor inquiry; it was like a sudden gust of northern wind that swept into Lyle's room.
