Do you remember the night when the street above whispered secrets only to those willing to pause? Lights twinkled, uninvited companions in the rain-kissed wind, as stories hovered, waiting between the droplets.
Trains passed, shadows flickered, and the unnerving yet comforting glow offered a dance of reflections. Friends became strangers, just like fleeting silhouettes disappearing beyond the horizon—only to become part of forgotten tales.
An old bench, cold and welcoming, held conversations with ghosts of laughter echoing in squares devoid of voices. There stood the light, unblemished, immortal among the ephemeral. Do you ever hear it calling you home?