The lens captures an extremely wide-angle shot—a canvas of memories. The old man, a mere speck in the grand tapestry of existence, stands before the flower shop. His silhouette blends into the vastness of the scene. The sun, a molten orb, kisses the horizon, casting long shadows across the cobblestone path. The world seems to stretch infinitely, yet the old man remains small, almost insignificant. His presence, though fading like the hues of twilight, holds a quiet beauty. The flower shop, bathed in the soft glow of sunset