Nestled in a verdant meadow beneath the cloudy autumn sky, a serene little village exudes an air of tranquility. Its peaceful ambiance, so quiet that the rustling of leaves in the wind is barely audible, invites one to lay down on the grass, gaze up at the sky, and drift off to sleep. On a cloudless day, it feels as if the stars are poised to twinkle into view at any moment.
On the Washington state road from Seattle to the Canadian border, a lonely drive continues, taking advantage of the surrounding trees. In a small village that sometimes appears, large houses such as hangars are located around a deserted road. In front of the village as if it were a ranch with no boundaries, a small sign was guarded alone.
