Finally, Lorenzo boarded the departing train under the watchful eyes of Oscar and Selyu. The whistle sounded melodious, steam billowed, accompanied by the clank of machinery as the heavy carriage was gradually dragged along until it galloped like a beast on the tracks.
Dust carried by the wind seeped through the window gaps, gently striking Lorenzo's cheeks.
Lorenzo rarely felt so tranquil, gazing at the steel city receding into the distance, overwhelmed by emotions that were difficult to articulate.
How long had it been since he last left Old Dunling?
Unwittingly, this city had become Lorenzo's fortress, but also his cage.
He hummed a familiar tune, enjoying this relatively pleasant moment as sunlight poured in. Lorenzo leaned against the case of a violin, his gray-blue eyes tinged with a hint of confusion, giving him a slight air of an artist at that moment.
