Where Reflections Remember

Pastel buildings lean gently over the canal, as if whispering secrets to their own reflections. Sailboats rest like punctuation marks in a poem of stillness, and the bridge arches not just over water—but over time. People stroll beneath trees that rustle with stories, while café flowers bloom like quiet applause. The sky, painted in soft blue and scattered clouds, watches it all with the patience of memory. This is not just a city—it is a lullaby of light, a watercolor of wandering, a place where reflections remember what we forget.