She wrote stories of a time she hadn’t lived. She longed for sunshine days filled with the sweet smell of floral markets and pleasant smiles. She remembered the amber pendants hanging from iron columns.

She felt her soul being called backwards; to a time and place that no longer existed.

Some called her an old soul. She felt truth in those words as her soul craved nostalgia. A city that represented love, imagination, promise and romance.

She imagined herself peacefully stolling the city streets. Glistening from fresh rain and moonlight. She believed in the power of memories.

Maybe she had lived here before? As a version of who she was; a renewed sense of being in a modern space.

Yet peace rose from remembering. She grasped tightly to the notion of familiarity. She’s felt this before. She recalls the essence of someone she’s never been, yet feels in her soul.

She clings to her thoughts – allowing them to drift away in a breeze of happiness and romance. This is who she’s always been. This is where she’s meant to be.

A moment in time that’s stood still just for her to become who she’s destined to be.

A city so incredible that she’s become one with it’s presence.

She fell in love with herself once again, dancing a waltz, being among the sensation of enchantment.

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