Cologne

Cologne. 

You step onto the iron spine of the city, where steel holds the river and the river holds its breath. 

The crowd moves like a soft tide, strangers sharing the same slender ribbon above the water. 

In the hush between footsteps, you hear the city hum as if a pot left to simmer, warm and patient. Graffiti leans close and whispers a secret you almost understand. 

The railing is cool, the air mild, and the light drizzles evenly, turning the day into a quiet reel that refuses to rush you. 

You are one of many and your solitude takes a breath. The bridge gives everyone the same permission slip to be in transit and still present. 

Stories skim past in shoes and coats and laughter. Somewhere a joke lands, somewhere a plan is born, somewhere a memory loosens its knot. 

The city shows its heart without spectacle, plain and generous, and you feel taller than your worries. 

For a moment you belong to everyone and everyone belongs to you. 

Leave with the rhythm still in your legs, the calm folded into your chest, and the taste of a good day on your tongue. 

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