Evening.

She parked her bike by the ramp on the bridge. It was allowed. A row of bicycles formed as the skylight grew darker and the streetlights shone brighter.

She loved this time of the night. It was quiet and told her that everyone was home in their respective houses, apartments, flats, dreaming their big and little dreams.

There is something wonderful and reassuring about living in Europe. In the middle of old and quaint. In the middle of someone else’s dreams and stories and inspirations.

She loved her city, she loved the tiny, paved streets that were never designed for the modern traffic, loved the old buildings and the sky that shed rain. The streetlamps that made everything romantic, the canals, the playful architecture and the cafes that were open late allowing the visitors to get a late-night cup of coffee. Who does not like a late-night cup of coffee, when life is so full and oh, so short!