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... schedule, like a profound dirge that the sky sang to the earth. The lead-gray horizon hung low, enveloping the entire city in a hazy yet poetically charged atmosphere.
Fine strands of rain wove into a delicate net, sliding down the contours of Gothic spires, tapping on the cobblestone streets with a pitter-patter sound, like a conversation between rain and history. Hidden beneath this seemingly harmonious melody were tumultuous splashes of water waves.
The gas lamps on street co ...
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