The valley of Home Valley held stories. Each rustling breeze carried tales about a time long forgotten, if the world danced to a peculiar rhythm. Legends swirled like leaves in the moonlight, sketching vivid visions upon the souls of those daring enough to listen. The air itself buzzed with primeval magic, a constant echo that Home Valley held more

The city exhales a/its/the sigh/breath/exhalation, a symphony of rustling/grinding/screeching tires against the smooth/grimy/worn surface. Above, the sky weeps/hangs/casts a pall of/over/across gray concrete and steel. The pulse/rhythm/heartbeat of traffic flows/trundles/rumbles, a/the/an ceaseless march/motion/progression. Each car, a fleeting sha