The city stands between memory and time, built from pieces of the past like an old tapestry. The streets are narrow and winding, paved with smooth, golden stones. Every road leads to a familiar place, but every turn brings a new surprise. The city feels both old and new, as if time has paused.
At the center of the city is the Grand Plaza, always full of life. Laughter and music fill the air, mixing with the sound of footsteps on the cobblestones. In the middle of the plaza, a tall clock tower stands, its hands moving like the heartbeat of the people below. The cafés shine brightly, inviting visitors to sit and enjoy a warm drink. The rich smell of fresh coffee and baked bread drifts through the streets. Old men sit on wooden benches, sharing stories of the past. Their voices blend with the gentle melody of a violinist playing nearby.
To the west is the Library of Forgotten Words, a magical place where endless shelves hold stories from long ago. The scent of old paper and ink fills the high-ceilinged halls. Golden chandeliers give off a warm, soft light, creating a peaceful atmosphere. The librarian is a quiet but wise person who seems to know every book ever written. Visitors often find the books they need before they even ask.
By the river, the Night Market wakes up as the sun sets. Colorful lanterns sway in the evening breeze, lighting up the wooden stalls. Vendors sell handmade jewelry, soft fabrics, and delicious pastries. The smell of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon fills the air, making even the coldest nights feel warm. People walk slowly, enjoying the sights, sounds, and flavors of the market.
The city has no borders, no maps—only memories. The past whispers in every shadow and every breath of wind. And those who enter never truly leave. A part of them stays behind, waiting to be discovered again, like a forgotten story in the Library of Forgotten Words.
