She is a story spoken in silence.
This city talks directly to me with just it’s ancient eyes alone. Everyone contains multitudes here. Glances alone are layered in symbols, just as the buildings are. And that’s before anyone speaks. Even this silence in our eyes here is a tell and a long tale worth exchanging forever. Maybe as her poets say, the whole world is contained in her eyes alone. And she is like a place you never left, but were always moving towards somehow, and peering out from… Regardless, the map home is written in her ancient eyes, stories spoken in silence, as if yesterday were today and tomorrow, or perhaps forever.