The moon bathed the cobbled streets in silver, each stone a memory of steps not taken, words unspoken. In the shadows, ghosts of laughter lingered, entwined with the scent of jasmine that danced on the midnight breeze.
Somewhere in the folds of time, a letter lay penned but never sent, ink bleeding into the pages of a life untold. The words, a serenade to a love fierce and tender, yearned to escape the confines of forgotten scenes.
Morning mist wrapped the world in a soft embrace, veiling reality in a gauzy illusion. As the sun pierced through, it revealed not a horizon but a tapestry of dreams, woven with threads of longing and whispered promises.