Aimee Liu

In the low-poly world I built with my own hands, sunlight spills down in its most passionate form. Two blazing orange suns defy the usual cosmic order, hanging in the sky, wrapping every inch of land in warm halos. The clouds, like enchanted tufts of cotton, float freely- sometimes catching golden shards dropped from the suns, twinkling playfully under the blue sky. Raindrops break free from the clouds’ embrace, transforming into faceted blue crystals. Before they can fall, they turn the sky into their stage, refracting dreamy spectrums of light.

On the ground, green meadows stretch like soft velvet carpets across undulating hills. Brown mountains rise like the earth’s backbone, their rugged textures etched with stories worn by time. Mysterious symbols, carved faintly at the peaks, are marks I gave them. A winding river, like a ribbon of blue, links scattered red-roofed cottages. The wooden walls bear humble textures, echoing the warmth of everyday life. Wisps of smoke curl lazily from chimneys-here, even in a low-poly world, they drift slow and gentle. Windmills stand still and quiet, their blades turning as if spin the serenity of the countryside into golden songs among the waves of wheat.

There is no clutter of reality here. Every geometric plane, every vivid color, is a brick laid by my imagination. The suns rise and fall not by rules, the clouds need not obey the laws of weather, and raindrops are in no rush to meet the ground. Everything grows and glows freely under the order of this low-poly realm-my own everlively dreamland, filled with longing for freedom and beauty. Every glance is a free-spirited journey through a fantastical world of the soul.