Not long ago this was just another ghost town, now the streets breathe faintly, shadows crouch in doorways, sidewalks swept but crumbled, their cracks filled with awakening. Eager footsteps break the hush.
Impossible dreams are rekindling, drifting like fragrant woodsmoke, threading the fissures of old brick walls, each hope a stitch, mending blight and silence.
Each echo carries daring promise, an audacious optimism— ringing like cathedral bells at dawn.
From faded paint and broken boards new vows are uttered, signs call out: Welcome. Grow. Belong.
Those long-forgotten words bloom once again, repainted in colors so vivid that you question the cynics.
Sunbeams reflect from polished windows, a glowing dance, bending, reshaping, reflecting not just memory but pride and possibility. The entire view is reframed until eyes see the vision, and minds can once again wonder and even begin to believe again.
Dawn scatters freely on the breeze splashing unwritten stories, Setting the splintered bones of this place. Just as despair had taken root, the ghosts leaned in close to whisper… Hope is the better inheritance.
~Eric Vance Walton~
(Gif created by Grok.)
