La Sorte

In La Sorte, time is a tangible substance. The streets are paved with polished granite, and the buildings seem to be crafted from a single piece of glass that has been cut into intricate shapes. Every moment is frozen in time, and the inhabitants live according to the rhythm of the city's internal clock. They trade dried apricots for the memory of a first kiss, and the sound of distant bells echoes through the alleys as they go about their day. The citizens of La Sorte value the past, and their lives are woven together by threads of nostalgia and remembrance. As one navigates the city's winding streets, the scent of ozone fills the air, carried on the breeze from the countless glassblowing workshops where artisans shape the stone into delicate, lace-like patterns.