I walked among the shadows of the old town, where the streets knew my name better than any friend. Each corner whispered a story, a silent echo of footsteps long forgotten. Return
A single feather drifted down, untouched by the wind's request. I wondered if it belonged to a bird still searching its way home. Journey On
Underneath the rusting awning, I found a book, its pages yellowed but filled with a quiet urgency. Words meant to be read aloud, yet now only murmurs in the dark. Listen Closely