High upon the hills, where clouds drift like restless memories, stone walls keep their silent watch.
They have seen centuries pass in the slow breath of the wind.Once, voices echoed here with purpose, commands, and devotion, now only the wind...
Spring arrives like a whispered hymn through the waking woods,a golden breath stirring the hush of slumbering earth.Cherry trees blush with fragrant petals,as if nature herself recalls an old, sweet memory.
Cathedrals stretch toward the sun...