Once, long ago, I visited this place as a child.

It felt so different back then.

I remember my parents had to drag me through the gates—I was so entranced by those great, gleaming towers I could barely move.

Everywhere we went people smiled and sang, happy to share their beautiful city with newcomers. The painted streets were wide, laced with flowers of every color. At every corner stood a friendly shop, filled with delights or curiosities to thrill a young heart.

And the horses—oh the horses—they were something you just had to see for yourself!

I’ve returned here for work, now grown-up, and it’s all changed.

The people are too preoccupied with their own business to offer more than a passing glance. The roads are crowded, full of travelers bustling from one place to another. The quaint little shops have closed, replaced by sprawling superstores.

And there are no more horses.

Nonetheless, here I am and here I must remain for a time. This is my life.

And there are some days, when I stare up at those gleaming towers until some of the thrill comes back, that I wonder if the childhood magic is still there—just in hiding.

What if I remember the city as it once was? What if I show off some of the sparkle that once shone in my youthful eyes?

It’s worth a try, right?

I’ll smile at every new face I see, I’ll plant flowers in the garden above my apartment, I’ll hum a merry tune while I work, and I’ll paint pictures of the horses, running free and wild.

And maybe, in a small way, I’ll bring the old magic back.