The Mtkvari flowed quietly through Tbilisi, its ripples catching the shy glimmers of the afternoon sun. Above, the clouds drifted lazily, parting just enough to reveal a blue sky that promised fairer hours ahead. Trees lined the embankment like silent guardians, their leaves swaying gently in the breeze.

In the distance, the modern tower rose, half in shadow, half in light—like the city itself, where old stories and new dreams meet. Standing on the bridge, I felt the pulse of Tbilisi in the water’s movement: steady, timeless, yet always changing.

Here, between the river and the sky, the city seemed to breathe.