he kitchen with the aroma of baking bread. My sister passes a bowl of berries, and we pop them into our mouths, juice staining our fingers. Food tastes sweeter when made with company.​Autumn Leaves​A gust of wind sends leaves swirling—red, gold, amber—like confetti from the trees. Kids chase them, shrieking, while a grandmother collects the prettiest ones in a basket. The air smells of cinnamon from a nearby bakery, and I pull my scarf tighter, smiling at the season’s vibrant goodbye.​Morning Market​Stalls brim with ripe tomatoes, glossy apples, and bunches of basil. Vendors call out, their voices mixing with the clatter of carts. I buy a bunch of sunflowers, their petals bright as sunshine, and a jar of honey that glows golden in the light. The market feels alive, a patchwork of colors and sounds.​Rainy Afternoon​Thunder rumbles softly in the distance. I curl up on the couch with a blanket, listening to rain drum on the roof. A candle fli

he kitchen with the aroma of baking bread. My sister passes a bowl of berries, and we pop them into our mouths, juice staining our fingers. Food tastes sweeter when made with company.​
Autumn Leaves​
A gust of wind sends leaves swirling—red, gold, amber—like confetti from the trees. Kids chase them, shrieking, while a grandmother collects the prettiest ones in a basket. The air smells of cinnamon from a nearby bakery, and I pull my scarf tighter, smiling at the season’s vibrant goodbye.​
Morning Market​
Stalls brim with ripe tomatoes, glossy apples, and bunches of basil. Vendors call out, their voices mixing with the clatter of carts. I buy a bunch of sunflowers, their petals bright as sunshine, and a jar of honey that glows golden in the light. The market feels alive, a patchwork of colors and sounds.​
Rainy Afternoon​
Thunder rumbles softly in the distance. I curl up on the couch with a blanket, listening to rain drum on the roof. A candle fli

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