In the quiet corner of the city’s hum, where voices blend and footsteps drum, we find each other—simple, true— a handshake, a glance, a moment or two.
Friendship is a weathered street, paving stories beneath our feet, a patchwork quilt of shared delight, mornings' laughter, long into night.
It’s the kindling in a neighbor’s eye, a whispered hope, a silent cry, holding the weight of days gone by, but lifting us toward the sky.
In the city’s pulse, in every face, friendship finds its special place— not grand or loud, but steady and kind, a mirror of what’s true, what’s mine, what’s yours to find.
