Once, the cobblestone streets weaved tales of laughter and longing, each step an invocation of ancient whispers.
The decaying facade of our once-beloved café, now draped in ivy's gentle caress, cradles phantoms of forgotten promises.
Maps lie strewn across the attic, their edges curling like time’s gentle fingers—each line a pulse of land left aching in solitude.
Do you remember the lullaby of the ocean as we stood upon the cliffs, the sea’s unrelenting kiss eroding our dreams into salt and foam?
Perhaps, in another life, we’ll trace the paths anew, beneath the silvered light of stars that have known our stories for eons.