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The bell towers in Rab
Two bell towers rise against a pale sky, their stone worn smooth by Adriatic winds. One stands tall and straight; the other leans slightly, as if listening. Between them, narrow streets twist toward the sea, carrying the echo of iron bells across red rooftops.
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Porta Cumae
The ancient arch stands weathered yet defiant, its stones holding centuries of whispers. Beyond it, a sliver of light hints at landscapes unseen—what lies past this threshold remains a mystery, inviting the bold to step through.
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Southern street scene
Sunlight slants across cobblestones, casting long shadows from weathered buildings. A lone figure moves down the narrow street, their silhouette dissolving into the warm haze. Shutters hang slightly ajar, hinting at lives unfolding just beyond view. The air hums with quiet energy—a moment suspended in golden light.
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Three girls gathering roses
Three girls bend among thorny stems, fingers brushing petals still damp with morning. Their skirts catch on brambles as laughter tangles with the scent of crushed roses. One holds a bloom to her cheek, its blush matching hers. The garden hums with stolen moments, ripe and fleeting as summer.