The city didn’t change—
the wires still hummed their tired tune,
walls still leaned in quiet arguments,
and windows blinked in colors
they never asked for.
But one day,
the sky spoke up.
It screamed in pigments—
fuchsia regrets, mustard dreams,
turquoise promises never kept.
Clouds unraveled like gossip,
and the sunset lost its rhythm.
Beneath it all,
one figure stood still—
a shadow stitched into the street,
watching as the world
finally said everything
it had held back.
Made with love and wools
