The narrow cobbled streets of old #311

A narrow stone path winds between weathered walls, their surfaces rough and layered with time. The walls are capped with reddish-brown tiles, slightly uneven and worn, hinting at age and exposure. At the end of the path, a wrought iron gate stands slightly ajar, its intricate design softened by rust and neglect. The stones beneath are irregular, some mossy, others cracked, forming a worn, uneven surface. Bare trees loom in the background, their branches skeletal against a pale, overcast sky. The scene is quiet, enclosed, and slightly damp, with muted earth tones and a subdued light that suggests early winter or late autumn. The atmosphere is still, contemplative, and unassuming.