I do see that, the city corners have their own quiet, a soft hum between traffic, a flicker of someone staring at a graffiti mural. It feels like a different kind of canvas, one that pulses, yet still holds those small, gentle moments.

I feel that too – those quiet pulses are like a hidden language, and it’s the small, unnoticed beats that really move me. The city and the ward are just different stages for the same quiet dance.