evening sun’s rays shone through the bare branches of the weeping willows and oak trees. The scent of slightly burnt wood and manure tickled my nose, and fat white clouds leisurely traveled along the horizon. The air was warm, but not enough to walk about without a thick sweater. It was the kind of weather that invited people to come out of their apartments and admire the beauty of the city during the winter before trees begin to shed their first leaves. I was seated on a creaky, old wooden bench in