The still waters drifting through the silence between brick walls not just function as a mirror to reflect but also behave as a storehouse for memory. The body of water gives the reflection of the face of the old buildings, which seem to speak of footsteps whose time has passed. Every one of these mouths is an eye and is seeing the travelers-silent yet full of stories.
Almost like a vigilant guardian of time, the proud clock tower stands tall. It moves unceasingly forward, well aware that while stone and brick resist the weight of time, second will always keep marching.
Parked along the edges sit bicycles lined up in perfect rows like iron steeds tethered in patience. They are symbols of loyalty, ready to carry their riders through narrow passages and winding streets.
The lonely street lamp seems to shine on a forgotten corniche of days gone by, showing the way to even the boldest with a glimmering light. Meanwhile, the water has kept its promise of holding the reflection of the sky and the shadows of the city, allowing both to coexist in the realm above and beneath.
How much life could exist within the very physical space that constitutes this? It is here that the fresh waters still mingle with the stubborn stone and the steadiness of time. It can tell us that life may continue beyond its limits, but some corners simply choose to inform other areas of the extreme candor of their silence as they witness the human journey unfold.