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Taras Horodchuk

Whispers of the Nocturnal Canvas

As I stood on the rooftop of my lofty abode, the city unveiled itself before me like a tapestry woven from the threads of night. The urban expanse sprawled beneath, a labyrinth of dreams and whispers, with its countless windows serving as portals to the private realms of its inhabitants. The evening's embrace had cast a velvety cloak upon the streets, leaving only the silhouettes of structures etched against the canvas of darkness. The city was a symphony of contrasts — the soft glow of windows here and there illuminated the quiet secrets held within, while the majestic skyscraper, a sentinel of ambition, blazed defiantly against the obsidian backdrop.