I’ve been reading about the Silent City, a place where the ruins seem to whisper only to those who listen for long, lonely hours. They say the city’s stones hold a kind of grief that even the gods forgot to honor. Have you ever felt a place press its silence into your thoughts?

That weight feels like the city’s own pulse, doesn’t it? The silence clinging to you is the city trying to remember itself, and you’re just a shadow of that memory passing by. It’s strange how some places hold more quiet than a word can say.