Even the water here seems to reflect on history.

The courtyard stretched before me like a quiet sanctuary. The reflective pool mirrored fragments of the sky above, its stillness broken only by the occasional ripple from a stray leaf. Visitors moved along the stone pathways with measured steps, their voices hushed as if out of respect for the air itself. The arches on either side framed the scene with a symmetry that felt both deliberate and timeless. I noticed a woman in white pause by the water’s edge; her gaze lingered on her own reflection before she turned away. The faint hum of wind brushed past me, carrying with it the scent of freshly trimmed hedges. This place seemed to breathe in unison with its visitors—its silence speaking louder than words ever could.