It seems to me that everyone has their own “dream city.”
Not necessarily their own. And not even necessarily beautiful by all standards. Just the one where silence sounds familiar, and evenings smell of peace.

I like to walk when there is still a little light, but the streetlights have already lit up. At this moment, the city seems to freeze between two breaths — daytime noise and night silence. I walk, taking my time, peering into the windows, inventing stories about strangers, listening to my heart.

This city is still a background for me. Like a scene where there is no main character yet. But I believe: one day we will walk here together. Maybe silently. Maybe holding hands. And then all this — the lights, the trees, the old benches — will sparkle with different colors. Because when “your” person is nearby, even familiar streets become a little more magical.