The city was still asleep at 06:50.
The sky was casting a yellow and purple light
on to the buildings that have been erected centuries ago.
In their glory, they were magnificent,
with majestic facades which would call to mind
the pictures from the revival of the renaissance.
They are a bit more gray, a bit let down,
A few pieces missing but you can still recognized the beauty.
The rain is falling heavy on the road,
washing away the sins of the week.
If you listen closely you can still hear the footsteps
of our illustrious authors, rushing to the bars
to discuss new ideas over a cup of coffee
and share wisdom with those willing to listen.
If you just tilt your umbrella a bit,
turn three times on your heel,
you will see all the stories the city has to offer
on a lazy, gray, Sunday morning at 6:50
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