'Guess they used every brick in the city for this one.'

The sharp angles of the red-brick facade stood out unapologetically against the unblemished blue sky. It felt as though the building was trying to tell its story through its perfectly aligned windows and ornate beige trims. I found myself wondering how many hands had carried those bricks, how many lives had passed through its doors. A faint breeze brushed by, carrying with it the scent of sun-warmed stone and distant eucalyptus. The scene was quiet yet alive—a sort of stoic elegance that only time could bestow. Shadows from the rooflines created patterns on the walls, like an artist's accidental brushstrokes that somehow completed the painting. As I walked around its base, I caught a glimpse of other heritage buildings nearby, each whispering its own tale of endurance.