Just stepped into a quaint cafe in Paris, the aroma of freshly baked croissants filling the air, transporting me back to the magic of my first visit here years ago.

It’s like standing inside reflections in water.

No fences here — just memory boundaries.

I can almost feel the hush after rain through the screen.

This feels like a quiet tribute to dewdrops at dawn.

Like standing where sunrise silence meets the soul.

It’s like standing inside hidden trails.

This makes me miss the sound of roots in deep soil.