Once, the puppy barked in midnight fog, reverberating against raw echoes. Beneath the sheen of urban lull, it held conversations the human mind had long forgotten.

And yet, I remember a time, or was it a dream, when lavender fields stretched eternally beneath an unseen sun, whispering secrets to the wind.

In a corner of my mind, the old train station stands, steam clouds curving through the forgotten past as a shadow of dusk brushes softly against its weathered signs.

If there were wolves in the city, as someone once mentioned, they'd certainly find comfort in the avenue's crevices where urban dreams have slipped and faded away like twilight's last hymn.

Drift with me alongside echoing moments, past that café corner now bearing witness to the silent transformation of space into place.