Cologne, Germany

Cologne, Germany. 
The twin spires cut into a pewter sky while the bridge hummed with footsteps and small talk. 

Autumn burned low at the base like coals that refuse to die, an old warmth under new shoes. I felt the city slide under my skin. 

The cathedral doesn't shout. It waits. Patient as tide, stubborn as habit, kind as a last cup poured for a friend.

People crossed and crossed again and in their motion I heard a promise that the old and the hungry heart of now could sit at the same table. In that soft light the day forgave me a little. I breathed deeper. 

The bells were not just sound but a hand on the shoulder, a reminder to keep moving with purpose and to savor the quiet between steps. 

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