Step lightly, for the cobblestones remember. They remember footsteps that recede into echoes, into whispers. The mist swirls as stories unfold, unravel, only to be woven anew.
Amidst the flickering lanterns, shadows dance—a performance rehearsed through centuries. The air hums with melodies long forgotten, yet never lost. Remember the rhythm, remember the rhyme.
Voices beyond the walls call out, call out, but never answer. They tell tales of the forgotten and the never begun. In these laneways, stories live and die, only to be born again.