So much has changed... and yet, every shadow still speaks the same truth.
You taught the world to see, Leonardo. We're still looking through your eyes.
She’s changed... and yet, she hasn’t aged a day. Still guarding her mystery.
You gave her a soul, Maestro. And she’s been watching over the world ever since.
They built them… my dreams, in wood and code. They made them fly.
Because you imagined them, Maestro. Your sketches became wings for the future.
In these stones, I still hear my thoughts echo — as if time has folded back upon itself.
And across centuries, his vision finds shape again — where bridges rise from memory, not blueprints.
To create is to converse with the future — and here, the future is speaking back.
His genius, once drawn on parchment, now dances in pixels — ever evolving, ever alive.
Once, I painted with brushes and dreams. Now, I see my ideas glowing in light itself.
His creations no longer hang in silence — they shimmer, speak, and inspire anew.
In every line I draw, I still search for the soul of the world.
Even centuries later, the master’s eyes see beauty where time stands still.
All this beauty... It never changed. Only I have returned to see it anew.
And through your eyes, we remember how to see the world with wonder again.
