When even sculptures strike a yoga pose better than you.

The second figure caught my eye—a dancer mid-pose, arms raised gracefully above its head. It was as if the wind had whispered a melody only it could hear. Its companion stood further back, hand to its face as though pondering some distant horizon. The shadows beneath them stretched long and playful across the brick pavement, their edges softened by the afternoon sun. I couldn’t help but marvel at how these hollow outlines held so much life. A car idled quietly nearby, its presence almost apologetic against the serenity of the scene. The trees swayed gently above, their leaves filtering sunlight onto the ground like fragments of stained glass. Each step closer felt like stepping into someone else’s daydream.