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Long before the city woke up, the market vendors were already preparing their stands.

Wooden crates filled with fruit and vegetables were arranged carefully along the narrow street.

The air carried the scent of oranges, fresh bread, and damp pavement.

A few early customers walked slowly between the stalls.

They spoke quietly with the sellers, exchanging greetings that had been repeated for years.

In places like this, time seemed to move differently.

Nothing hurried.

Nothing rushed.

The morning unfolded exactly as it always had.